Out of the Blue and into the Black
by T'eyla
Summary: Reed gets lost in the past and has to find his way back (reviews very welcome). Complete
1. Chapter 1

Out Of The Blue And Into The Black  
  
by T'eyla  
  
AN: Like I said, my first try at writing in English, so I apologize for any spelling, grammar or other mistakes I might have made (if you see something really bad please write and tell me, then I'll change it). Else, I just hope you enjoy it.  
  
Warning: This might not agree with any of the episodes after 'Oasis' (that was the last one that aired here in Germany)  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount and others own Star Trek, I don't make profit from this.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
People are strange  
  
When you're a stranger  
  
Faces look ugly  
  
When you're alone  
  
The Doors; People Are Strange  
  
"Hey, Arschloch, weg da. Dassis mein Schlafplatz. Verpiss dich!"  
  
He heard the voice but couldn't make sense out of the words. He felt something kick him in the thigh, the pain came an instant later, somehow softened by the daze surrounding him. He groaned and curled up tightly.  
  
"Wennu nicht wegehst kann ich dir sang dass dus bereun wirst."  
  
Somebody grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pushed him to one side. He hit the ground and sharper pain stabbed his head. He groaned again and opened his eyes, looking into the darkness surrounding him. First he incoherently wondered if he might have gone blind, then his eyes adjusted and he could make out a large bulk laying beside him. He tried to sit up and slipped, hitting the bulk. The guy yelled something, sending another painful stab through his head. Groaning, he crawled away from the nonsense-shouting guy until he could feel something behind his back. A wall. He leaned against it, pulling his knees up and cradling his head in his arms. The pain hadn't ceased, on the contrary it had gotten stronger, and it felt like his brain was going to explode. He moaned again, louder this time. Instantly, he heard the other guy moving and yelling again. Suddenly a fist grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upward. He screamed when the man slammed him into the wall. Yelling something, the guy punched him in the stomach. Letting out a cry, he tried to pull away, but he couldn't move in any direction;so he desperately slammed his palm into the face of the other guy. He was released and, clutching his stomach, he fell to the ground and curled up again, trying to ignore the shouts of the other guy that cut through his head. He wanted him to stop, just stop...suddenly, he was grabbed again and thrown. He stumbled and fell. A sharp pain cut through his palm and he winced. Then he felt something stab his arm and realized dazedly that he had fallen in a heap of glass shards. He scrambled to get up, cutting his arms, hands and fingers at least a dozen times. Swaying, he stood. The whole world was a blur of pain. He tried to walk and stumbled to the nearby wall. Supporting himself on it, he made his way away from the guy who was still grumbling somewhere behind him. After about ten meters his legs gave in and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.  
  
-###-  
  
Light. There was light shining through the darkness behind his closed eyelids. It made his head hurt. He winced and tried to put his hand over his eyes, but halfway up, somebody grabbed his wrist.  
  
"Hey, du bist wach! Na endlich, hat ja auch ne Weile gedauert!"  
  
He couldn't understand what the voice was saying, but since covering his eyes didn't seem to be an option, he opened them. Through the bright light that was suddenly stabbing his eyes he could make out a face-shaped form leaning over him. He tried to speak but only a whispery croak escaped his throat, and he had to cough. That made his head hurt again.  
  
"Na wie fühlste dich? Sollt ich vielleicht nicht fragen, was? Hahaha... Willst bisschen Kaffee? Na sicher willste einen. Ich hol ihn schnell."  
  
The figure disappeared. He blinked and tried to make out his surroundings. It felt as if he was laying on a sofa or anything like that, with his head propped up on a pillow. After realizing that, he also noticed that the pillow smelled. Wrinkling his nose, he tried to push it away, but immediatly stopped again. It made the pain in his head unbearable. Looking around as far as he could without moving he saw that he seemed to be in some kind of living room. Across the room there was a big old moth-eaten armchair, and pillows were scattered all over the floor. An old carpet was spread out in front of the sofa. Some decades ago, the color might have been green, but it was no way to tell from the dust-gray color that it displayed now. The walls as far as he could see, were bare, only very dirty. Gray wet spots crawled up in the corners and there were brown footprints up until one meter over the floor. Listening, he could hear nothing he recognized. Then there was a clatter and the voice spoke again:  
  
"Ich hab dir auch gleich zwei Aspirin mitgebracht."  
  
He blinked into the direction of the voice. His eyes had adjusted to the brightness now, and so he was able to see the talker relatively clearly. He blinked as he took in the appereance. The person was probably female, but it was hard to tell. He/She was defenitely human, though. A long nose protuding from a haggard face with a sickly color, greasy gray hair hanging around the cheeks and a skinny body clothed in a big stained sweater and dirty jeans; bare, filthy feet. He listened to the person saying something else and decided that she was probably female. The voice was just a little too high-pitched to belong to a man.  
  
Suddenly the woman slid an arm behind his back and pushed him up. He tried to go with the motion and sit up; and it worked, but not without sending another sharp jolt of pain through his head. Bending forward, he waited for the pain to subside.  
  
"Hey, kotz mir hier nicht rein, hab den Teppich erst kürzlich auswaschen dürfen!"  
  
He lifted his head and for the first time looked his host in the eyes. They were the only things that looked alive in her face, a lively shade of green mixed with brown and gray. Very intense eyes. He tried to say something, but only a croak escaped his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again:  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
The woman looked at him strangely.  
  
"Was hast du gesagt?"  
  
'Yeah, sure, if you can't understand her, she probably won't understand you, stupid', he thought. He pointed a finger at himself, then around the room, then looked questioning at the woman.  
  
"Was...sprichst du kein Deutsch? Na scheiße...was sprichste denn? Ah..versteht er ja nicht...oh mann...What...äh...what speak you?"  
  
"English", he said with a slight half-smile. The woman blinked, then said:  
  
"Oh gut, das kann ich wenigstens bisschen. I..." and she pointed a finger at herself "...Bianca." Then she stabbed her finger at him and asked: "You?"  
  
He opened his mouth to tell her his name, hesitated, and closed it again. His name. What was his name? Somehow..he didn't know. He couldn't remember. Shaking his head slightly in confusion, he tried to find that basic information in his mind, and for a second he felt it hovering just out of his reach. Concentrating harder, reaching out with his mental hands, he came a bit closer - and then hit a wall, a barrier in his mind that wasn't letting anything through. Blinking, he looked up at the woman and shook his head. "I...don't know."  
  
"Oh mann, wie heisst du...is das so schwer zu verstehen? Na, irgendwie muss ich dich nennen...." Again she jabbed her finger at him. "You...Leo, okay?"  
  
'Leh-oh?' he thought doubfully. 'My name's Leh-oh?'  
  
"My name's Leh-oh?" he asked out loud. She waved her outstretched forefinger in front of his face and said something in her language, then added:  
  
"I give you name. I give you Leo."  
  
-###-  
  
Several hours later he was sitting on the sofa and watching Bianca as she puttered around the room, shoving pillows from one corner to the other. After naming him Bianca had given him some coffee, something to eat and two little white pills, assumingly against the pain. After that, he had slept again, until five minutes ago he had woken up to see her fussing around with the pillows. He wondered what she was doing but until now, he hadn't had the energy to ask - the pain pills had made him kind of drowsy, even though he had slept after taking them.  
  
"Hey Leo," Bianca said suddenly, turning."You is good?"  
  
"What?" he asked, confused.  
  
"Ah...You is *good*??! Your...Kopf! Mann!" she said, exasperated patting her head.  
  
"Umm...my head's good?" He still didn't understand. Bianca made an unnerved sound in her throat, and again patted her head. Then he got it. "Oh, you mean, if my head still hurts?"  
  
She looked at him, not understanding, and shrugged. He smiled at her.  
  
"I'm fine, thanks." At her doubtful look he added "I'm good," and made the thumbs-up sign. That she obviously understood, because she smiled, too.  
  
"Super!" she said. "Dann kannste ja helfen! Äh...you..help!"  
  
And she dragged him up from the sofa into a standing position. Surprised and still weak, he stumbled forward and nearly fell. He caught himself and stood still, waiting for the dizzyness to subside.  
  
"Ups, sorry." she said. "Gehts wieder? Ähh, ich mein...you good?"  
  
He blinked, looking at her. His headache, which had had disappeard except for a slight pounding in the back of his head was flaring again, and the room was blurred before his eyes. He grabbed her shoulder for support and tried to straighten up. The room was whirling.  
  
"I think I'm going to be sick." he croaked, and as soon as he had finished the sentence he did throw up. It wasn't much thanks to the fact that he hadn't eaten much, but even as his stomach was already empty he kept retching dryly. Then he felt himself being pushed backwards onto the sofa. He sat down heavily and looked up into the furious face of his hostess.  
  
"Was soll die Scheiße, ich hab doch heut abend die Clique da, soll ich das jetzt wieder aufputzen oder was?" Then she obviously remembered that he couldn't understand her because she opened and closed her mouth several times and then burst out:  
  
"Oh mann, fuck you!"  
  
He closed his eyes briefly and tried to catch his breath, then said:  
  
"Sorry. I...I think I got up to fast..." 'Not that I had a choice', he added in thought.  
  
"Red nicht so einen Scheiß daher, du weißt genau ich versteh dich nicht. Das hier kannst aber selbst aufwischen, ich bin nicht dein Putzmädchen!"  
  
He looked at her, but she turned and left the room. He thought it would be best to follow her and get the situation sorted out, so he got up again - slowly this time, first sitting up straight then standing carefully, waiting after each movement for the dizzyness to subside. Finally standing, he turned to the door, but at that moment, Bianca returned carrying a bucket and a rag. She gave them to him and pointed to the mess on the floor. He took the stuff and knelt down, which sent another jolt of pain through his head. Gritting his teeth, he barely kept himself from producing another mess and set himself to cleaning up the first one. As he dumped the rag into the soapy water, he got the first good look at his hands and noticed that they were cut in several places, just the same as his arms. He frowned, not remembering the event that had led to the cuts - but, thinking about it, it seemed he couldn't remember anything before the moment he had woken up on Bianca's sofa the first time. Pausing in his cleaning motions he tried to recall anything that had happened before that. Closing his eyes he probed his mind for any kind of memory, and shortly he saw the husky image of a bare, dim-lit room with an opening in the wall where the door should have been. Digging deeper, he thought he could see a light shimmer in the opening, and beyond that, a dark corridor and a person...a guard with a big gun slung over his shoulder. But as he tried to reach for more a black curtain swept down, concealing all images and pictures behind it. He attacked it, tried to force it to show him more, but there was only blackness. He opened his eyes and straightened up.  
  
"Where do I come from?" he asked Bianca who was sitting on the sofa, watching him.  
  
"Hm?" she asked. He sighed.  
  
"Me...I" he said, pointing at himself. "Where from?"  
  
She shook her head. "Heut Abend...when sun down you know." she said. He tried to figure out what she meant and after some thinking came to the conclusion that she either meant he came from the west - where the sun sets - or that he would know after sunset. Since both possibilities didn't seem to make much sense to him, he returned to his cleaning work, still trying to remember and wondering if he might have lost his mind.  
  
-###-  
  
'Well, I think I understand now', he thought later while Bianca introduced him to a guy in a shabby suit and a tie that was so old and dirty that you could barely decide which color it was.  
  
It was nine pm and since eight, quite a crowd had gathered in the small room. About twenty people were talking and laughing and drinking - the latter to an extend that he was wondering if anybody would be standing come ten o'clock. Bianca had had her share too, and now she was babbling away happily, waving her forefinger frantically in front of the face of the guy. He had just come, and as he had walked through the door Bianca had pointed at him and said:  
  
"Er kann Englisch...He speak English!"  
  
The she had run to the guy and started talking, so that Leo - he had reluctantly started thinking of himself by that term since he lacked any ideas what his real name was - had had time enough to follow without setting off his headache again. Now as he was standing there and watching as the guy tried to interrupt the flow of words coming from Bianca's mouth, he thought of Bianca's strange statement earlier: 'When sun down you know.' He hoped he interpreted her correctly and was right in his conclusion that this guy was able to talk some English so he himself could get some answers to his questions, which had increased exponentially in number since he had woken up earlier that day.  
  
"Hi", the guy said, interrupting Bianca in mid-sentence."I'm Franzl, if you can't pronounce that, just call me Frank."  
  
He had a hard accent, something from the continent - not French, though - but apparently was able to talk English fluently. Clearing his throat, Leo answered: "Oh, hi...I'm...well, it's a little strange..."  
  
"I know that Bianca named you Leo since you didn't tell her your real name...or at least, couldn't make her understand you. But you could tell me, since Leo isn't the most desirable name, is it, and I would understand."  
  
"Uhm...that's just my problem...Frank", he said uncomfortably."You know, I don't think I could tell you since I don't seem to remember my name."  
  
"What?" Frank looked at him unbelievingly. Then he shook his head and sighed. "Well, seems like this is going to take longer than I thought. Why don't we sit down?" And without waiting for a reply he turned and walked over to two big pillows which were laying on the floor near the door. Leo followed him. Bianca, who had been watching them intensely, said something and disappeared.  
  
Seating himself across from Frank, Leo waited for the man to start the conversation. It was clearly visible that his statement had taken him by surprise. Leo had thought that Bianca had understood at least that much - but thinking about it, people normally didn't assume that somebody couldn't remember his name if the person didn't say so explicitely.  
  
"So..." Frank started. "Maybe it would be best if you just told me what happened and where you come from. Who knows, mayby then your brain decides that releasing the information about your name isn't that a bad idea after all."  
  
Leo sighed silently. "It's not that easy, you know. I have no idea where I come from or what my name is, the least how I came to be here. I can't remember anything of what happened before I woke up here in this room on this very sofa." And he pointed at the couch, where now several people were sitting and talking, each with a bottle of beer in their hands. "I don't even know how I came to get my hands cut up like that," he said, once again examining the mysterious injuries covering his hands and arms. Suddenly something in his mind twitched and the blurred image of a dark place appeared, a yard of some kind. Focusing, he tried to make out something, some clue what this could be, but instantly the black wall appeared, locking him out. He looked up at Frank. Frank, seeing Leo watching at him, raised an eyebrow.  
  
"A real case of amnesia," Frank said. "Interesting. I never thought I'd really meet one. Always assuming," he said, cocking his head, "that you're telling the truth."  
  
"Why shouldn't I?" He was getting slightly annoyed by the arrogant behaviour the other man displayed.  
  
"Well...to get attention. Or you were really a bad boy in your past and just don't want to blemish your new life with it. Although, considering it," Frank said, giving Leo a thorough once-over, "you don't look like the bad-boy-type to me. More the guy in the background. You're to small for one of the guys who go around and beat people up."  
  
"Well, I can't remember 'going around and beating people up', neither giving order to do so," Leo answered wryly.  
  
"Not even blowing up buildings or people? You could have been a bomb expert."  
  
Blinking, Leo considered. Blowing up things sounded...somewhat familiar.  
  
'Yes, and maybe if I can get the target scanners to stay online for at least two weeks in a row...'  
  
He paused. Where the hell had that thought come from? Dismissing it, he focused again on the conversation.  
  
"Whose bomb expert?" he asked. Frank looked at him strangely.  
  
"That was just a joke," he said. "Did you remember something?"  
  
"No." he said hesitantly. "I thought I did but..."  
  
"Well..." Frank said, throwing him a careful look."Let's find out if we can somehow jog you memory. Umm...you said you don't know how you came here?"  
  
"No, not at all."  
  
"Well that's something I can clarify. Bianca told me that she found you laying in front of her door, unconscious and covered in blood. She first thought you were dead but then discovered that you had only cut yourself - she said that you probably fell into some of the glass shards that are laying around everywhere out there. So she took you inside - she said she didn't want to make the cops notice her place by finding an unconscious and injured guy directly in front of her door - and washed off the blood. Then she just waited till you'd wake up on your own, which you did eventually - but it took you quite some time, she said. Well, you know the rest. She told me to ask you some questions, but since you apparently don't remember anything, most of them can't be answered anyway. She wanted to know who you are, where you come from, if you have any people looking for you - dangerous people or cops, you know - if you talk any language exept English and if you're in Germany legally."  
  
"Oh, so I'm in Germany?" Leo, who had been listening intensly, asked.  
  
"Yes," Frank answered, frowning. "You didn't know that?"  
  
"How could I? Nobody told me. Well, I mean, I noticed that I'm not on Enterprise..." he trailed off. Again a picture had flashed in his mind, a picture of long, narrow hallways and doors that swished open if you touched a pad next to them. Concentrating, he tried to force his mind to show him more, but instantly hit the black wall again. Frustrated, he attacked it, trying to break through, and he thought he could feel it crumbling...  
  
"Hey!"  
  
He blinked and focused again. Frank was looking at him, frowning.  
  
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Remember something?"  
  
"Yes...no...not really." Leo said, confused. "I saw something...looked like the inside of a starship...or of one of the old submarines, those the Americans used in the Eugenian Wars..."  
  
"What?!"  
  
Startled by the urgent tone Leo lifted an eyebrow. "Yes?"  
  
Frank blinked and frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about. Enterprise...starship...Eugenian Wars? What's this all about?"  
  
"I don't know...I'd rather say what I saw was the inside of a starship, though, not one of the old U-Boats..."  
  
"What U-Boats?"  
  
"Well, the submarines that the Americans used to fight Khan's men."  
  
"Who's Khan?"  
  
"Khan? Khan Noonien Singh? You must know him! He started the Eugenian Wars!"  
  
"I don't even know what the Eugenian Wars are."  
  
Leo stared at him, unbelieving.  
  
"What kind of trick is this? You can't tell me that you don't know about the Third World War!"  
  
"The *Third* World War? As far as I know, there were only two, and they were both caused by the Germans. That Khan-guy doesn't sound like he's German."  
  
"He's not German. He...but, why don't you know about this? That can't be!"  
  
Leo stared at Frank. How could it be that this guy didn't know about the vast devastations caused by Khan and the Eugenian Wars? He obviously had had some kind of education since he could talk in a foreign language. And even if you had never seen a school from the inside, you couldn't avoid hearing about the Third World War.  
  
"When do you say did this war occur?" Frank asked him.  
  
"Well, it were several battles fought in places all over the world. But officially", Leo said, digging up dates and events from his memory, "it started when Khan and his men destroyed Washington DC in 1990."  
  
"In 1990," Frank said thoughtfully. Leo nodded.  
  
"Well," Frank said, "I think our problem is solved. I can't know about your Eugenian Wars if they started in 1990 since right now we have 1985."  
  
"What?" Leo asked. He didn't think he had hear Frank right. If he had, that would be too much to take right now.  
  
"Well, it's 1985. Your Eugenian Wars won't start for another five years."  
  
"But...but no, you're wrong, it's 2151. If it were 1985 I wouldn't have been born yet, since I'm only..." He tried to remember his age but only blackness greeted him. It was getting very familiar by now. "...well at least not 166." he finished lamely. Frank gave him the strangest look.  
  
"What, it's 2151? Oh yeah right, I forgot. You remembered the inside of a starship, and the 'old' U-Boats that won't be built for another five years, look similar. And what's Enterprise? A company that builds flying cars? Or rather computers that fit into you pants pocket?"  
  
"Stop that." Leo said. "Please. I'm not making fun of you. I...I really thought that it's...but how could it be anytime else? I mean, that's impossible, that's...just plain impossible!"  
  
He was totally at sea. Here he was in this strange room, couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember his age, was being hosted by a rather strange woman whom he couldn't talk to and now he was told by a rather strange guy that that what he *could* remember was wrong. And his headache was coming back.  
  
"I got to get out of here." he said, getting up and heading for the door. He heard Frank letting out an exasperated sigh and fastened his pace. Trying not to pay too much attention to his surroundings (he just realized that they seemed really old-fashioned, if not ancient, and that scared him even more), he passed through what he thought to be the front door. In his head, his thoughts chased their own tails. Hundreds of questions popped up, dragging a tail of thousands of related ones behind them. Why couldn't he remember his name and age, but was easily able to recall the date of the beginning of a war nobody else knew about? Why was he so sure that it was the year 2151 if Frank had said it was 1985? Why could he even remember what year it was? Or had his mind just made that up? Why seemed everything so old-fashioned to him if he couldn't even remember what his former environment had looked like ? Why had he mentioned Enterprise although he couldn't relate any memory with this name? What was Enterprise?  
  
He could feel the wall in his mind, could feel that behind it, the answers were being held captive, and he attacked it viciously with all the mind force he could muster.  
  
I want to remember my name!  
  
I want to remember my past!  
  
I want to remember!  
  
Tell me!  
  
It was giving way, small parts were crumbling under the force of his demands. Pushing harder, he threw his full force against it.  
  
Tell me!!! Tell me!!! TELL ME!!!  
  
And finally the wall fell, releasing a flood of pictures and memories. Enterprise. Captain Archer. Trip. Hoshi. The armoury. His quarters.  
  
Then, earlier things. Starfleet academy. High school. His father, yelling at him. His sister. His mother...  
  
Letting out a cry, he staggered and fell to his knees. Holding his head in his hands, he opened up to the flood of memories drowning his consciounsness.   
  
My name's Malcolm. Malcolm Reed. I am the Armoury Officer on a starship called Enterprise, in the rank of a Lieutenant. Enterprise is the first starship of its kind, NX-01, and we are the first humans to go that far out into space. I was born on the second September of 2121, as the oldest child of Mr and Mrs Stuart Reed. I have a sister called Madeline, and I haven't talked to my family in more than half a year. I hate my father. I never had any real friends, neither during my childhood in England nor during my time at the Starfleet Academy in San Francisco; until I came to Enterprise. Trip's my friend. Hoshi's my friend. Travis' my friend. I don't think Vulcans consider themself as anybody's friends, but I get along with T'Pol. I'm not sure about Captain Archer, I think I critisized him too often for him to be my friend but I like and greatly respect him. I once won an award for inventing a force field capable of withstanding ten minutes of massive phaser fire. I disappointed my father and his family by not joining the Royal Navy like they wanted me to. I couldn't because I couldn't stand the thought of being out on the sea and living on the water all my life. My mom could accept that, my father couldn't. Some months ago, I was captured in a shuttlepod with Commander Tucker and our oxygen was limited. I got really drunk although I was on duty. I threatened him, a superiour officer, with a phase pistol. I...  
  
"Stop!" he cried out hoarsely. "Just bloody stop!"  
  
Slowly the flood subsided. When his mind had somewhat cleared up again, he took his hands from his face and looked up. Somehow he had obviously gotten outside, because he was kneeling on the pavement in front of the apartment building's entrance.  
  
"Malcolm has left the building," he murmured for no particular reason, and started to giggle. Being unable to make himself stop, his giggling developed into real laughter, until he was laying on the pavement, his arms wrapped around himself, and laughing so hard it hurt his stomach. After a few minutes, he slowly gained control over the hysterical outburst, and sat up, panting. Looking around, he took in his surroundings. He was sitting in some kind of back yard, surrounded by a couple of houses that looked really old and really shaggy. Scattered all over the ground were bags of garbage, mostly empty glass bottles, some whole but most of them broken.  
  
'Lucky that I didn't fall into the splinters', he thought, but then remembered his cut up arms and hands. He had had his share of splinters, it seemed. Then he remembered Frank. And Bianca. Getting up fast, he turned to the door, half expecting one of the two to emerge from it. But no, the door didn't move and stayed in its slightly ajar position.  
  
'I have to get away from here', he thought. There was no way he was going back upstairs. Now that he had his memories back, he wasn't as vulnerable anymore, and neither Bianca nor Frank had seemed to happy to have him there. He was aware that Bianca had probably saved his life, but he thought she nevertheless would have thrown him out sooner or later anyway. So before that could happen, he decided he'd rather pick his own time. He turned and started walking.  
  
Germany 1985 Frank had said. Well he didn't speak any German, but if he had his dates right then most German people should speak at least some kind of English in 1985, it being the world's most important language. And maybe he was in northern Germany, then it shouldn't be too hard to get to England somehow.  
  
'Good thing I didn't land in Malaysia,' he thought wryly. 'The next English speaking country would have been Australia, and considering that accent, you could argue about that.'  
  
-###-  
  
Some hours later he had to admit that Australia woud have had at least one advantage: less people, less houses, not so many small streets and alleys where you could get lost if you just went around three corners. He had always thought that he would never get into a situation where he would lose his bearings so completely that he didn't even know if he was walking in a circle, but then, he had never expected to be walking through a German city of 1985. It was dark, but that he had expected, since it was about ten pm. It was that every house looked the same. All were the same unpleasant grey street colour and had the same ugly backyards scattered with garbage. The small streets were all cobblestone, the bigger ones smooth pavement, and looked all very much alike. First of course he had tried to find his direction by the stars, but the smog in the air and the lights radiating from the city made it nearly impossible to even see the stars, let alone get any clue where you were going from them. He had also given up counting his lefts and rights hours ago because Germans let their streets not only part in lefts and rights but also in half-rights and threequarters-lefts. He had never been able to find a liking to how Americans built their cities - all square and boring - but right now he would give anything to be lost in an American city. At least then he would have been able to continue walking in one straight direction without hitting a wall after 500 metres. He had been to London a couple of times, and it had been complicated to find your way around but compared to this...  
  
"You'd need a bloody tracker dog and a searchlight even to find your way to the supermarket!" he growled, scanning the grey walls for something he recognized. He had already tried to memorize the street names, but he had always gotten mixed up because he wasn't able to remember the right spelling. At one point he had decided to just trust his memories and follow the street signs. Half an hour later he had had to admit that it hadn't helped a bit, he just had gotten even more lost, and now, fifteen minutes after that, the desperate wish that Hoshi would be with him was getting very strong.  
  
'She would be able to memorize the street names, and surely she speaks German anyway', he thought. 'The only thing my father never bugged me about were my bad marks in languages...probably because he considered them as girls' subjects. Mistake, daddy, mistake. Now I got lost in the past and can't even ask my way through to the next bloody time machine.' He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt very weary. He had been walking for hours and his headache which he had hoped had left him was coming back. He opened his eyes and walked around a corner into one of the back yards every house seemed to possess. This one even had a small shelter where the garbage cans were stored. Pushing some aside so the smell wouldn't be so bad he created a small protected spot where he first cleaned the ground of the most obvious dirt and then laid down and curled up. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
There's a lady who's sure  
  
All that glitters is gold  
  
And she's buying a stairway to heaven  
  
Led Zeppelin; Stairway To Heaven  
  
A high pitched yelling woke him up the next morning. Opening his eyes, he looked around in bewilderment. Then he remembered what had happened and where he was. He sat up wincing at the stiffness in his back and looked for the source of the noise. An old woman was standing next to the nearest garbage can. She was glaring at him, pointing her finger and yelling nonsense.  
  
'No, not nonsense. German,' he thought and sighed.  
  
"Dear Lady", he said, getting up, "I have no intention of violating your private living space nor blowing up your garbage cans - although that certainly would be fun. I just needed a place to sleep and your garbage can shelter was the first option to pop up. I do apologize that it upset you, and I can assure you, I won't do it again. Now if you would please excuse me."  
  
He tried to slide past the woman who had been standing there, listening with an uncomprehending expression on her face. Now her eyes widened in shock and she stumbled backwards away from him, yelling and screetching again.  
  
"Komm mir nicht zu nahe du dreckiger Penner! Schmarotzer! Eine alte Frau anzugreifen! Ich werd die Polizei rufen, das versprech ich dir! Und wenn die dann erst das Phantombild haben..."  
  
Pressing his lips together in annoyance he passed her by and headed toward the street, the woman still screaming behind him.  
  
'What a wake up call', he thought wryly. 'Beats even the red alert sirens.'  
  
But he knew that he had to get out of there. The woman had seemed pissed enough to call some kind of security or police or whoever's job it was to convict winos and hobos here in this time. And even if she wouldn't do that somebody had surely heard the noise and he really didn't want to answer any questions right now.  
  
He didn't know what he was going to do now though. Yesterday his priority had first been to get away from Frank and friends, and fast, and then to get at least oriented enough to think about what to do next. Now the only assignment he could think of was finding a map or anything like that since he had no intention of reexperiencing the events of yesterday night. But shortly a different problem made itself noticed by a loud grumbling in his stomach. He hadn't eaten anything for at least fourteen hours, and he was getting very hungry by now.  
  
'Well', he thought, 'so it seems I have to find some kind of information centre in this city. They should have maps, and maybe I can find out there if I can get something to eat around here.'  
  
Then something else came to his mind: money was still very important in this time, and he didn't have any of that. Well, of couse he had an account somewhere in 2151, but he didn't think he would get far if he tried to pay with credits here. And he couldn't get them anyway. That left him broke, homeless and lost in a country where he coudn't even communicate properly with the inhabitants. A sudden jolt of homesickness went through him, and he tried to push the thought aside.  
  
'You should get acustomed to the thought,' he told himself. 'You will be in this situation for quite some time, unless mankind developes a time travel method in the near future, and there's no information about that in the history books of 2151. Come to think of it, how did I get here anyway?'  
  
He stopped dead in his tracks. How had he come here? Strange enough, he hadn't given it one thought since his memory had come back, but as he now thought about it, he couldn't remember.  
  
'No, not again!' he thought unnerved. 'This is getting really old!'  
  
Obviously his memory hadn't been restored as completely as he had thought. But as he tried to remember now, he didn't even feel a wall, or the mental equivalent, in his mind like before. The memories just - weren't there. Squeezing his eyes shut, he searched his mind frantically, but the only result he got was the full return of the headache that had never really left him since he had landed here. Furious, he turned and rammed his fist against the wall of the house he was standing next to. It didn't give way, though, and a jolt of pain raced up his arm.  
  
"Bloody hell!" he yelled, staring at his scraped knuckles. Then he closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten.  
  
'Temper, Malcolm,' he thought. 'It won't do any good if you break your fngers beating up houses. Besides, you start acting like Trip.'  
  
Smiling a sad half-smile he turned and began walking, starting his search for an information centre.  
  
-###-  
  
Seating herself on her place behind the counter, Petra sighed deeply. It was ten am on a Friday morning, and she wished she hadn't changed shift with her collegue Sonja. Today was one of those days. First her alarm clock had had a malfunction and she had gotten up half an hour later than usual. Then she had spilled her morning coffee over her favourite dress, ruining it, and, by the way, burning her thighs (not too bad though, the coffee hadn't been very hot due to the fact that her microwave didn't work right since her ex had repaired it three weeks ago). Then she had set off for work, and on the bus she had discovered that she had obviously forgotten to take her key. That had been the point when she - normally a steady optimist - had decided that this obviously *was* one of those days. And now, after having been set to a rush by her alarm clock, having been burned by her coffee and having been locked out of her own house by her forgetfulness - and all that in only two hours - she was facing four hours full of questions like 'Oh, excuse me, but could you tell me where the next washroom is, my little son has peed his pants', to which she couldn't answer, 'Oh my God Lady he's at least seven, are you going to change him till he's twenty?' but had to remain friendly and helpful and had to offer the poor mother the private staff's bathroom so her son could make an awful mess and throw toilet paper everywhere.  
  
'Ah I hate working in a tourist information center! Why did I ever apply for this job? Well, money's money.'  
  
Sighing, she turned to the computer to start this day's work when the door opened and a man came in. On first look he seemed to be a mechanic of some sort because he wore some kind of blue overall like that of a car mechanic, but if you looked more closely, it was obvious that this wasn't the case. The overall was a darker blue, almost purple, and wasn't plain like the normal one's. It had zippers and pockets everywhere and red stripes at the shoulderparts and a weird looking sign on the left sleeve. The sign was round and displayed some kind of...well it looked like a saucer with two sticks sticking out at the bottom.  
  
The guy himself was small - 'He can't be taller than me' was her first thought - had dark, fairly short hair and looked ill. He was thin, dark circles displayed under his eyes, he hadn't shaved in at least three days - and he smelled. It wasn't the sharp smell of the hobos that came in from time to time, but it was close. She sighed inwardly.  
  
"Kann ich Ihnen helfen?" she asked with the friendliest smile she could muster.  
  
He blinked at her."Um...do you speak English?" he asked.  
  
'Oh great, that was obvious. An English-speaking hobo as my first customer. I love this job.'  
  
"Yes I do", she said, smiling brightly."Can I help you?"  
  
"Do you have any kind of city map?"  
  
"City map?" She wouldn't have been surprised by a question for money or the location of a shelter for homeless people. But a city map? That was weird. "Yes", she said quickly as she saw the guy watching her intently. "Yes, of course we do. What kind would you like to have?"  
  
"Um...one with this part of the city on it."  
  
She smiled inwardly. He was kind of cute - if he'd get cleaned up.  
  
"So you want one of old town."  
  
He looked confused. "I just want a map of this city with this part on it."  
  
"Okay, no problem. Just a minute." She dug under the counter for the map he had asked for. "Do you want the small one for five or the bigger one for seven euros?" she asked, showing him the two different maps. But he didn't even look at them. He had his eyes closed, and a desperate expression showed on his face. First she didn't know what the problem was, but then she realized that a guy looking like him probably couldn't even pay one euro for a map, let alone five. She sighed silently.  
  
"Or do you want the free leaflet about the city? There's a small map included, although it is not very detailed."  
  
He opened his eyes, and a weary smile appeared on his face. "That would be great. Thank you very much."  
  
"No problem", she said and snatched one of the leaflets out of the holder next to her. When she had given it to him he murmured another thank you and turned to go. After two steps he stopped though, and looked at her once more.  
  
"Could you tell me if there's a public restroom somewhere around here?"  
  
'Oh I knew it!' she thought. 'Today how could it be different!' But she kept her smile on her face and said:  
  
"Well, there is one at the market place, but that is about fifteen minutes away from here. If you want to, you could use the one we got here."  
  
"You're too kind", he said, again smiling his little smile.  
  
"It's right back there", she said and pointed to an unlabeled door in the back of the room.  
  
"Thank you very much", he said and disappeared through the door.  
  
-###-  
  
As soon as he was in the privacy of the bathroom Malcolm closed his eyes and slid down the wall to the floor. His head hurt like it never had before - not even after his shore leave on Antares IV, and that time he had thought he wouldn't survive the way to sickbay. Cradling his head in his arms, he slowly began to rock himself - back and forth, back and forth. The soothing motion made the pain seem farther away if not bearable, and it made him forget the cramps in his empty stomach.  
  
After he had decided to go looking for an information centre he had been running around in the morning-empty streets for two hours before he saw a first sign that suggested that this city had more than backyards and old houses. He had come to a big sqare with an impressive gothic church and some stores. There on that sqare he had first seen the sign he had been following since then: the capital latin letter I in a circle; white on dark blue background. Although he hadn't known for sure he had assumed that it stood for Information. He had hoped it stood for it because at that point, his headache had already been considerable. It had been increasing ever since he had tried to force his mind to remember the events that had gotten him here, and the lack of food and water hadn't been helping. By the time he had seen the entrance sign that announced 'Tourist Information Centre' in German, Spanish, French and English he hadn't been sure if he was still walking straight. Inside the overhead light had seemed much too bright, and even though he thought he had managed his part of the dialogue pretty well, he still thought he had spooked the young woman at the counter.  
  
'No bloody miracle', he thought hazyly. 'I must look like one of the zombies from 'The night of the living dead'. I'd spook myself.'  
  
Thinking of the woman he realized that he coudn't sit there forever, as much as he wanted to. She would get suspicious if he was in here too long. He tried to get up, taking a hold at the sink, but halfway up, the world started to blur. 'Don't you dare faint!' he told himself. 'You can do that later when you're on your own!' But his body, weakened by lack of sleep, food and water, decided to ignore his advice and, slumping back onto the floor, he passed out.  
  
-###-  
  
'That guy is defenitely very strange', Petra thought as she returned to her work on the computer. 'Why, in God's name, would he want a city map, if he didn't have any money? For a hobo it doesn't matter where in town he hangs around, and that guy seemed to be at least on an early hobo-stage. Although he didn't look like an alcoholic, and, considering it, he didn't seem drunk either. A little...confused, maybe, but not drunk. And he wasn't in bad shape. He did looked somehow ill and definitely dirty, but after a shower and a good night's sleep...Maybe he wasn't a hobo at all. After all, did you ever before think Oh that guy could look cute if he'd take a shower when you saw a hobo? Maybe...maybe he's an escaped prisoner or something like that.'  
  
At that thought she looked up, giving the bathroom door a careful look. Yes, maybe that was what he was. It seemed to fit: no money, strange clothing, shabby appearance, and now that she thought about it, there had been some kind of a haunted look in his eyes.  
  
'In his blue-grey eyes', she thought. Then she laughed at her sillyness. That was something her ex had hated about her: she was a helpless romantic. She loved those kinds of movies where the suspect was actually the victim. She loved it to be allowed to feel sorry for the bad guy...the one that is hunted down and mostly killed in the end. And everytime when there's a happy ending for the bad guy, she was happy - and her ex who had been the extreme opposite, totally rational and realistic, had always laughed at her. And now, as she considered that the guy in the staff's bathroom really was an escaped prisoner, it didn't frighten her, it excited her.  
  
'And what if that guy isn't one of those bad guys who turn good but a real bad guy? A mass murderer of some kind? Thought about that, Petra?' a voice in her head said.  
  
"Stop that, you silly girl." she told herself. "That guy in there is *not* an escaped prisoner but a hobo...well maybe not a hobo, but no escaped prisoner either."  
  
'And, by the way, why is he taking so long,' she wondered, looking at the clock on the computer screen. 'He's been in there for at least twenty minutes now. That's not normal. Especially not for a guy.'  
  
'Maybe he gets cleaned up' the voice in her head spoke. 'He *was* pretty dirty.'  
  
"Yeah, probably. I'll give him five more minutes, then I'll check on him." she murmured to herself, returning to her work. But she couldn't concentrate. There was no sound coming from the bathroom. Not even the tab was running and she knew you could hear that out here because her colleague always brushed her teeth in there after lunch break. After looking up for the fifth time she let out a long sigh and got up. Crossing the room, she called:  
  
"Hey, mister, are you okay?"  
  
Getting no answer, she swallowed and knocked on the door.  
  
"Are you still in there?"  
  
No answer. A feeling developed in her stomach, like the tell-tale love-butterflys but without the pleasant part. She swallowed again and slowly tried to open the door. It wasn't locked, but after half a meter it hit on something. Peeking through the crack, she let out a small cry. The guy in the strange jumpsuit was laying slumped on the floor, obviously unconscious. Slipping through the small opening she knelt down beside him and turned him around. His eyes were closed, and now, looking at him close-up, she realized he really looked pretty ill.  
  
'Oh my God what do I do now?' she thought frantically. 'Water. You can wake people up with water.'  
  
She dug pack of Kleenix from her pants pocket, soaked them in the sink and passed the dripping rags over his forehead and cheeks.  
  
"Come on, mister, wake up, I don't need any customer laying on the floor of the staff's bathroom, it's only more trouble and I had enough of that today, come on..."  
  
Suddenly his eyes jerked open and he gasped. Scrambling away frantically, he reached to rub the water out of his eyes. Then he blinked several times, giving her a confused look.  
  
"What...where does the water come from?" he finally asked with a raspy voice.  
  
"Well, you had obviously fainted, and I just tried to wake you up. I'm sorry if I got any in your eyes, but you got me pretty scared, you know." she said apologetically. Letting out a sigh, the guy leaned back against the wall.  
  
"Thank you" he said. "I...haven't eaten anything, so maybe that was why..."  
  
"Do you want me to get you to the hospital?" she asked. He still seemed a little out of it.  
  
"No thanks. I'm fine, I don't need to go to sickbay."  
  
"Sickbay?" she asked, confused. He looked at her, blinking.  
  
"Umm, the hospital, I mean."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes" he said with emphasis and got up. As soon as he took his hand from the wall, he started swaying on his feet, and she scrambled to her feet to catch him before he fell.  
  
"Do you want to sit down?" she asked."We have a couch in the backroom."  
  
He looked at her, and smiling slightly he nodded."That would be a good idea, I think."  
  
-###-  
  
"Well, and now he's sleeping on the couch in the back room." finished Petra her report of the events of this morning. Her collegue and friend Sonja had listened intensely and exclaimed the appropriate ahs and ohs and oh my gods. Now she looked at Petra wide-eyed and, after a short moment of silence asked: "Why didn't you call the police? Or at least a doctor? I mean, he comes in, creeps you out and then faints in the bathroom. I would have called *someone*."  
  
"I don't know. He didn't seem threatening, you know. Yes, he was kind of creepy, coming in here looking like something dead and asking for a city map, of all things. But see, he didn't try anything. When I showed him the maps he didn't even try to grab one and run for it, so I figured he couldn't be too bad."  
  
"Well, if he can't even shit without fainting I don't think he could have outrun you. And he probably knew that, too, so that doesn't proof anything."  
  
"I know that, too...but he didn't seem like a bad guy. He seemed like...something had gone really wrong for him and he was trying to pick up the pieces."  
  
"Oh, you looked at him and figured:'well, dark circles under his eyes, strange mechanic's overall, faints in the bathroom...that guy has some big problems, but it's not his fault, he's just a poor victim of fate'. I am sorry but this sounds too much like Hollywood to be real. I think you should have called someone...you could have called me, at least, I had to come here anyway."  
  
"Well, I didn't. But you got your share of information, so why are you complaining?"  
  
"It's not about information!" Sonja exclaimed. "What if he's an escaped patient from a mental hospital?"  
  
Petra started to giggle:"Watch out", she said in a dramatic voice, "cause there are...*wackos* out there!"  
  
Sonja started laughing as well. "It *could* be after all!"  
  
"Yeah, and I *could* be a secret agent of the KGB. After all, what do you really know about me?"  
  
"You're west-european. That's not very KGB - like. And the KGB doesn't exist anymore anyway."  
  
"How do you know?" Petra intoned in a voice even more dramatic, then she spoiled the effect as she burst out laughing. Sonja joined in. After some giggling they got themselves under control and returned to work.  
  
"Your work day's over. Why are you staying anyway?" Sonja asked after some minutes.  
  
"What do you think? I mean, I can hardly just go home and leave that poor guy with you. For all I know you probably would bring him straight to the next hospital and tell them to lock him into the mental ward. I can't do that to him."  
  
"I thought you thought he was a hobo when he first came in. But you talk about him as if you plan him to be your next Jonas."  
  
By the metioning of her ex Petra rolled her eyes. She swung her chair around so she could face Sonja and said, stressing the words: "First of all, Jonas has blond curly hair, that guy has black straight hair; second, Jonas has brown eyes, this guy has blue-grey ones and third Jonas is an asshole and that guy..."  
  
"...is a wacko?" Sonja suggested dryly.  
  
"No. Well, I don't know what he is, but I know that he's been asleep for over four hours now. I think I'll check on him and make sure he didn't die." Looking at her friend's interested gaze she added: "Yes, you *can* come with me." 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
And it's all over  
  
For the unknown soldier  
  
The war is over  
  
For the unknown soldier  
  
The Doors; The Unknown Soldier  
  
"I can't believe this," Jonathan Archer wispered. He was looking at a message he had received from Mr and Mrs Reed. No, considering it, he didn't think Mrs Reed had had to say much in this matter. This was only Stuart Reed talking here, and Jon thought he could understand Malcolm's...dislike. Right now the captan felt an outright hate for the man.  
  
______________________________________  
  
To Captain Jonathan Archer [read the message]  
  
Shortly we received a delivery from Starfleet Command containing a post mortem medal for our son. Since we did not approve his joining of Starfleet we refuse to accept that decoration. We sent it to you, you will probably receive it during your next rendenzvous with a Vulcan vessel. For our part we consider the matter as closed and wish not to be bothered by Starfleet again.  
  
Sincerely, Mr and Mrs Stuart Reed  
  
______________________________________  
  
The buzzer at his door went off, startling him.  
  
"Come in" he called, and Commander Tucker entered. Looking at him, the Captain nodded acknowledging and turned back to the computer screen.  
  
"Um...Cap'n?"  
  
Controlling the rage and grief that the message had triggered in him, Archer took a clearing breath and looked at Trip. "What?"  
  
"I just...Jon, is everything alright?" Trip took a step towards the Captain and looked at the screen. "What's that?" he asked, frowning.  
  
"Read it," Jon said and turned the screen so the engineer could see what was displayed on it.  
  
Scanning the short message the frown on Trip's face deepened. When he was finished, he looked at Jon, unbelieving. "What kind of person *is* that guy?" he asked. Archer just shook his head.  
  
"I mean, Malcolm was his son. Even if he didn't approve...'wish not to be bothered'...oh my God." Trip felt hot anger welling up in his stomach and looked at Archer who put a hand on his friend's arm.  
  
"Trip..." he said, "even if his father doesn't care about him...and even if he never did, Malcolm had friends here on the ship. I think I can't be all too wrong if I say that he was happy here. And if that man even now can't forgive his son that he wanted to live his own life...well, I don't think that he's worth any more consideration then, do you?"  
  
"No," Trip said. "It's jus'...everytime I get confronted with Malcolm's parents...Malcolm's father especially...I'm so grateful for my own family. And I think Malcolm deserved better. He is..was...a really nice guy if you got to know him better." He swallowed and lowered his eyes to the floor. Jon stared at the screen, lost in thought, remembering his Armoury Officer. When he had first met Malcolm Reed he had been impressed by his skills and knowledge to say the least, but the man himself he hadn't really liked. Nevertheless he had chosen him for his senior crew and had hoped he would come out of his shell. His hopes hadn't been disappointed, it seemed, even though Reed had still been reserved around his Captain he had made some friends among the crew - Hoshi, and surprisingly Trip. It had seemed he was finding his place, until ten days ago..."  
  
"What're ya goin' to do with the medal?" Trip asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
"What? Oh, the medal. Maybe I'll send it to his sister. Madeline, I think. The two were pretty close as far as I know." Sighing, he pushed a button and the message disappeared from the screen, then Archer turned to look at his friend. "So, why did you come?"  
  
"Oh...well, I jus' wanted to tell ya that Starfleet Command has assigned a new Armoury Officer. It's a Mr Picard. French. He's also Lieutenant and has already served on smaller spaceships and on Jupiter Station. He'll be coming on board when we rendenzvous with the Skon in two days. That's his personal file." He handed Archer a padd that displayed dates and the picture of a man in his early thirties. He had light brown hair, ice-blue eyes and a friendly smile.  
  
"Thanks Trip." Archer said. Tucker nodded and left the ready room, leaving Archer to muse over his new Armoury Officer's file.  
  
Scrolling through the text, not really reding it, he kept thinking about the events that had caused the death of one of the members of his senior crew.  
  
'No, not the death. The disappearance', the optimist in him spoke up, but in this case, it was fighting a lost battle. People usually didn't survive it if the ship they were on exploded. Even if their name was Malcolm Reed. Yes, they hadn't found a human body or body parts in the debris that had been left of the Suliban ship, but as T'Pol had put it 'the human body is very small in comparison to a starship, so the remains could have easily stayed unnoticed by the scanners'. In other words, don't get your irrational human hopes up, there was no way how he could have survived that. And in this case he could only agree with her. Getting your hopes up because there was no body was highly irrational. It could only lead to disapointment and made it even harder to cope with the fact that Malcolm was dead.  
  
'It's not that he died. That would have been bad, tragic, but not as...pointless as this. At least he died in an explosion. He would have liked that.  
  
How do you know what he would have liked,' another part of his mind spoke up. 'You didn't know him. Nobody really knew him, but you knew him even less than the others. He never warmed up around you, and you never really tried to get through to him. You just took the poor excuse that this was how he wanted it and never gave him a thought. And now he died and you sit here and comfort yoursefl by thinking 'That was what he would have liked'. That's disgusting.'  
  
Closing his eyes, Archer shook his head.  
  
"I know." he whispered. "But what else should I do? I have to comfort myself somehow."  
  
'You left him', his mind said, 'and you should never forget that. You screwed up, Captain, and big time. It's your fault that he's dead, and only yours. Even if the others think it was just a mission gone wrong, it wasn't. At least not entirely. Partly, it was bad decision-making on your part. Not something the Captain of a starship can be proud of.'  
  
Covering his face with his hands he let out a deep breath and remembered the incident that had occured ten days ago...  
  
-###-  
  
"Captain, my scanners pick up a ship at two point eight", Reed's voice came from the tactical station. Archer turned.  
  
"A ship? But you said the space around here was deserted."  
  
"That it was, Captain. But now my scanners pick up a ship. It seems like it just...materialized." Reed lifted an eyebrow at his Captain who turned to T'Pol.  
  
"Do your scanners recognize it?"  
  
"No, Captain", T'Pol answered, looking through her scanner, "it is an unknown type. But it displayes similarities to the known Suliban ships."  
  
"Hull plating." Archer ordered. "On screen."  
  
A small ship appeared on the main screen, surrounded by pink and blue streaks from the nebula Enterprise had been cartographing. Just as Archer wanted to tell Mayweather to enlarge it the turbolift doors swished open. Expecting to see Trip Archer turned and opened his mouth to say something, but seeing who the visitor was he stopped in his tracks and stared.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Archer asked when he had found his voice.  
  
"I came because I need your help." the visitor said.  
  
"But...you died. How can that be?"  
  
"I died? Oh yes, right. In this time line I did indeed die, but I - this I - am from a different time line where I survived that mission." Smiling brightly, Crewman Daniels stepped down to where the Captain was standing. Archer took a step backwards.  
  
"What? You say you're from a different time line? That you came back here? What are you, some kind of ghost?"  
  
Daniels kept smiling and took another step towards the still retreating Archer. Reed's back stiffened noticably.  
  
"I'd really like to explain it to you, Captain," Daniels said, "but I'm afraid we don't have the time. The Suliban ship will attack you in about twenty minutes, and you're no match for them. That's a ship from the future, with superior weaponry and technology."  
  
"Lieutenant," the Captain said, not taking his eyes from Daniels, "is that true?"  
  
"I don't know Captain," Reed answered, consulting his consoles. "There's some kind of force field that makes it impossible for our scanners to pick anything up."  
  
"A metaphase force field. Makes it possible to fly deep into the corona of any sun, and of course, withstand any kind of weaponry you decide to use against them. Captain, they can blow you from the sky twice without even having half of their weapon-systems online."  
  
"Why haven't they attacked yet, then?"  
  
"Because their scanners are not working, at least right now they aren't. But they will come back online in about fifteen minutes, and then they *will* attack, if you don't listen to me."  
  
Archer glanced over at T'Pol who had a tricorder in her hand and was scanning the crewman.  
  
"T'Pol, my ready room." he ordered. "Crewman..." Looking at Daniels he motioned towards the door of the situation room.  
  
"Maybe Mr Reed should join us." Daniels said. The Lieutenant looked up from his station.  
  
"Very well. Mr Reed..."  
  
The four disappeared through the door, leaving the bridge crew to watch the small ship on the main screen.  
  
-###-  
  
"What's this all about, Daniels?" Archer asked as soon as the door had swished shut.  
  
"Well, as I already said, I need your help. The metaphase force field of the Suliban ship makes it impossible to jump onto it from another point in time. But you can easily beam through it if you use the right configurations. You do have a transporter, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, but it's still very..."  
  
"Doesn't matter Captain. What I need is that your tranporter officer beams me and a security team onto the Suliban ship so I can fullfill my mission."  
  
"What's your mission and why do you need a security team?"  
  
"My mission is not relevant for you to know, and a security team I need because if I go onto that ship unprotected I won't get far. Your security guards are trained for situations like this and even if I can't guarantee it, I'll try to bring them all back in one piece."  
  
"Very reassuring." Archer said. "Why didn't you bring your own security team? Or some kind of equipment that can protect you? You had all kinds of stuff in your quarters when you lived on this ship."  
  
"Yes, Captain, but then, I had enough time to organize my stay here. This time I was sent on this mission on short notice. This is all very improvised, and if we don't come to a conclusion soon it will be fruitless, anyway."  
  
"What if I say no?"  
  
"Then we can just sit down and wait for the Suliban to blow Enterprise to pieces."  
  
"How do I know they won't attack anyway even if I give you what you want?"  
  
"They will be preoccupied with the presence of an intruder on board, and after we were beamed back you won't have to worry about them anymore."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
"You'll see when the time comes."  
  
Archer let out an exasperated breath and turned to his two officers who had been standing behind him, listening intensly.  
  
"What do you think? Subcommander?"  
  
"You know my opinion about time traveling Captain. Although I have no explanation for Crewman Daniels presence I strongly suggest that you do not trust him without any evidence."  
  
"Very well. Lieutenant?"  
  
Reed looked surprised but simply answered:"I would choose the smaller risk Captain. Although I don't like the thought of three of my men to be beamed into a mission like this, the other possibility would be risking the whole crew. That's to high a risk in any case."  
  
Archer considered. He could completely sypathize with T'Pol's opinion, but Reed was right: the other posibility was putting the whole ship on the line and that he couln't do, hell, mustn't do.  
  
"Mr Reed," he said, "put a security team together. T'Pol, you have the bridge; tell Trip to meet us in the transporter room. Crewman, follow me."  
  
-###-  
  
While Daniels was reconfigurating the transporter Reed shortly briefed his men on the situation.  
  
"Daniels is in charge for this mission. We are just there to protect him from any danger that might occur. We are going to beam into main engineering of the Suliban ship. There Daniels will fullfill whatever he has to do on that ship and we are going to make sure that nobody comes near him. On a signal from Daniels Commander Tucker will beam us back. Understood?"  
  
"Yes sir," the two security guards answered unisono.  
  
Reed, who considered this a suicide mission if there ever was one had assigned himself for it and asked for two more volunteers from his staff. The two men who were standing in front of him were both not married and hadn't much family back on earth. 'Perfect people to die in the line of duty', he thought grimly. He had a very bad feeling about this mission, from the minute Daniels had walked onto the bridge he had known something like this was coming. And, looking at Archer's grim expression, you couldn't blame this bad feeling on his natural pessimism. 'Maybe pessimism in this case isn't pessimism at all but simply rational thinking', he thought, then turned to check on his phaser rifle again.  
  
"Everyone ready?" Archer asked as soon as Daniels signalized he was done with the reconfigurations. The Captain looked at Daniels, Reed and the two security guards who were standing on the transpoter platform, then at Tucker who was standing behind the console, all waiting for his order to beam them onto the Suliban ship. Pressing his lips together sligtly, he looked at his men.  
  
"Good luck" he said. Then, turning his gaze to Tucker he gave the order and the four people on the platform disappeared in a shimmer of light.  
  
-###-  
  
As soon as they'd materialzed fully Reed and his men swarmed out, forming a protective circle around Daniels. They'd arrived in a dark cramped room with a high ceiling and bleeping screens all around the walls. A vertical tube was standing in the centre of the room; in it a light was pulsing, creating a ghostly atmosphere. But the only thing the four people from Enterprise payed attention to were the five Suliban who had turned away from their consoles and stared at the humans in surprise. Before they could react, though, Reed and his two men had pulled their phase pistols and stunned three of them. The Lieutenant got a fourth one by swinging his phase pistol around and firing at the Suliban who had tried to adjust to the background.  
  
"Did anybody get the fifth one?" he asked looking at his two guards who shook their heads.  
  
"No sir, I think he got away."  
  
"Dammit. Well Daniels, where are we going?"  
  
Daniels had turned to the console next to him and ran a scanner over it.  
  
"Nowhere. We're staying right here. I only need to download some data. We can return to Enterprise in approximately five minutes."  
  
Reed nodded curtly and motioned his men to post themselves around the console Daniels was working on; then took his own position. He scanned the interior of the Suliban engine room intently, recalling his first encounter with that species on Rigel when he and the othes had fought the Cabal. He remembered that their ability to adjust to their surroundings had really creeped him out. 'Security's nightmare', had been his thoughts, and now here he was on a ship full of people who could vanish in the blink of an eye. Clenching his jaw, he watched for any sign, any movement that indicated that a bunch of gen-manipulated Suliban were making their way toward them. But the pulsing light of the reactor in the middle of the room made it hard to decide what were just shadows and what was something else.  
  
He turned to ask Daniels how much more time he needed as he saw a movement above the console. Shouting a warning he shoved Daniels out of the way as a Suliban dropped from the ceiling right onto the place where Daniels had been working. Reed was thrown off his feet as the Suliban landed on top of him. Squirming, he tried to free himself but the superior strength of his adversary made it impossible. He felt himself being grabbed and flung across the room. As he hit a nearby console he heard a crack and thought 'Oh my God please let that not be my communicator.' Getting to his feet, he dug it from his sleeve pocket and saw a crack that was running across the back side of the casing. 'Bloody hell,' he thought, dropping the broken gadget and, pulling his phase pistol, turned to see Daniels and the two guards trying to fight off a group of at least eight Suliban. Stunning the one that was advancing on Daniels he called: "Contact Enterprise! Tell them to beam us back." He reached out to grab Daniels' arm when something hit him in the back. He felt himself falling forward, then he knew no more.  
  
-###-  
  
"Get them back!" Archer yelled.  
  
"I'm tryin', Jon, but I can't find Malcolm's signature." said Trip who was frantically pushing buttons at the transporter console.  
  
"What do you mean; scan for him."  
  
"I can't scan for him, the metaphase force field's still online. I can only pick up the communicator signatures 'cause Daniels reconfigurated the scanners. And Malcolm's signature just disappeared!" He pushed some more buttons, a deep frown on his face.  
  
"I got a lock on the other three." he said some seconds later. "Beaming them back...now."  
  
A shimmer appeared on the platform and the three people materialized. Daniels and the two guards, all in a fighting position, looked around in surprise. Archer took a step nearer.  
  
"Where's Malcolm?"  
  
"I don't know sir," one of the guards answered. "We were attacked by the Suliban and the Lieutenant told me to contact Enterprise. Why didn't you bring him back with us?"  
  
"We couldn't find the signature of his communicator. Did you see what happened to..."  
  
"Captain," Daniels interrupted Archer, "I don't know what happened to Lieutenant Reed but I have to go back anyway. I wasn't able to finish my assignment. You..."  
  
A tremour shook the ship. Archer stepped over to the comm. "Archer to bridge, what's happening?"  
  
"The Suliban are attacking us." came T'Pol's voice from the bridge. "No severe damage."  
  
Archer turned and glared at Daniels. "You said we wouldn't have any problems with them!"  
  
"Like I said, I couldn't finish my assignment! Beam me back, and I'll get finished; and I'll try to get Reed back."  
  
"I'm not beaming anybody of my crew onto that ship again!"  
  
"I'm not a part of your crew anymore," Daniels remembered him."But Lieutenant Reed is. Do you just want to leave him there?"  
  
Archer stared at the young man. A young man he was, but he had more experience with the Suliban as anybody in Starfleet. Another hit rocked the ship.  
  
"Beam him back, Trip. I'm on the bridge."  
  
"Aye sir."  
  
-###-  
  
As he arrived on the bridge, T'Pol immediately left the Captain's chair and went to her station.  
  
"Status!" Archer barked.  
  
"The suliban ship has fired three shots, inflicting minor damage. I assume they were supposed to be warnshots." T'Pol reported.  
  
"Retreat as far as possible without leaving transporter range."  
  
"Aye sir." Mayweather answered.  
  
"Is there anything new from the away team, Captain?" T'Pol asked as the Suliban ship was getting smaller on the main screen.  
  
"We just beamed them back, but couldn't get a lock on Lieutenant Reed. Daniels said he has to go back because he hadn't finished his assignment. I hope he can find out about Malcolm."  
  
"And if not?" Hoshi asked from the comm station.  
  
"Then, Ensign, we'll have to think of something else."  
  
Hoshi swallowed and with a grave expression on her face, she turned back to her station.  
  
"Status of the Suliban ship?"  
  
"As far as I can conclude from the limited sensor data, no changes. They ceased firing on us and are unactive." T'Pol stated.  
  
Archer started pacing. One of the things he hated most of all was when somebody of his crew was in trouble and he could neither help nor at least know what was going on. He hated having no control over the events that were decisive for a mission. Which was why he always went on away teams. Which was why he now whished he had accompanied Daniels. Noticing the glares he got from Hoshi and Mayweather he stopped pacing the deck and sat down in his chair.  
  
Suddenly Hoshi spoke up: "Captain, incoming hail from our team on the Suliban ship."  
  
Archer got up. "Put them through."  
  
"Captain, this is Daniels. I fulfilled my mission and this version of me will probably never bother you again. You don't know how much you helped the future of mankind. I am deeply sorry but I couldn't help Lieutenant Reed. Thank you and farewell, Captain. Daniels out."  
  
"Hey!" Archer cried. "Daniels!" When he got no response he turned to the comm station. "Hoshi, hail him!"  
  
"He doesn't acnowledge, Captain."  
  
"Captain," T'Pol spoke up, "the Suliban lower their metaphase deflectors. And they have activated their self destruction."  
  
"What?" Archer whirled around to face the main screen. For a second he still caught a glimpse of the small Suliban ship, then it exploded in a great red fireball.  
  
"Attention, shockwave." T'Pol said. "Brace for impact."  
  
Seconds later the wave rocked the ship. When it staightened up again, the screen was displaying only the nebula - and around the former position of the small ship there were some tiny spots, floating along in space.  
  
Archer stared at the screen, trying to grasp what had just happened. Then he turned to T'Pol.  
  
"What...they set off their self destruction? Why?"  
  
"That I cannot say, Captain. But maybe it were not the Suliban themselves, maybe Crewman Daniels activated it."  
  
"Captain," Mayweather spoke up, "are you sure Lieutenant Reed was still on that ship?"  
  
Archer paused, looking at the helmsman. Then he went to his chair, hitting the intercom button.  
  
"Archer toTucker."  
  
"Yeah, Jon, I'm here."  
  
"You didn't by any chance beam Malcolm on board, did you?"  
  
"No I didn't. Why? What happened?"  
  
Swallowing, Archer lifted his gaze to the screen.  
  
"The Suliban ship...it self-destructed." 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
You can be alright on the wrong side of the street  
  
Aerosmith; Head First  
  
_______________________________________  
  
Tuesday (Dienstag), the 25th of July 1985 (der 25.7.1985)  
  
Well, now I'm writing a journal. I never thought I'd ever do that, but the last few days a lot happened that I never thought would happen, and that's a bloody understatement. I'm stranded in this century and country, and there's no possibility to go back to where I belong. At least none I can see. I keep telling me what Commander...what Trip would tell me: You have to think of a happy end. Reminds me of that old American children story about this nanny...if you loose your happy thoughts you fall. Seems like I lost them.  
  
I am Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, and until a week ago, I've been the Armoury Officer on board the starship Enterprise NX-01 of Starfleet. Right now I'm...well, I think you could say I'm unemployed. Since I landed here the strangest things happened, and the most important facts I want to write down quickly: I apparently arrived here in Germany on wednesday the 19th of July (that would be Mittwoch der 19.7.85 in German), although I can't remember anything of that day, neither what happened here in this century nor what happened in the 22nd century. The first thing I *do* remember is waking up in a room owned by a woman named Bianca. At that moment I couldn't remember anything, not even my name. I stayed there until the night of the 20th of July, when I managed to get back most of my memories - I had been catching glimpses before, but never been able to recall whole memories. Then I wandered through this city for most of the night, and the morning of the next day I met Petra Lauber. She works as a part-time employee in a Tourist Information Centre. When I arrived there I wasn't in the best of conditions, and she took care of me - was even so kind to offer me to stay at her place until I knew what I was going to do. I had told her that I couldn't remember anything of my past since I could hardly tell her that I came from the year 2151. Although right now I'm not sure if she really wouldn't have believed that. She is...it's hard for me to express my feelings concerning Petra. Of course I'm grateful - very grateful. She helped me and she gave me a place to live - *her* place. But I'm not sure if she did it out of pure charity. I think she did it because the thought of a mysterious stranger who has lost his memory fascinated her. She's...weird. She has problems with separating reality from imagination, and in this century, where your imagination is stimulated by so many things - TV, cinema, books, computer games, you name it - it's even harder for her. It's not that I'm offended that her interest in me mostly emerges from all the movies about mysterious strangers - hell, no, it's not like that. I'm just afraid that I'm using her, taking advantage of her...naivety. I don't want this to happen. But now thinking about it, that's just what I'm doing. Why else shouldn't I tell her that I can very well remember my past, where I came from and what I did there? She would believe it, I'm almost sure of that - it would take some explaining, but she would believe it. So why don't I just tell her? Because I'm afraid that maybe - just *maybe* - she wouldn't believe it. And what would she do then? Would she still let me live here? If she wouldn't, what would I do? I wouldn't know where to go. I still don't have any money, still don't know the language - although I have picked up some words: bitte, danke, and how to write a date. I can't risk that, so I won't tell her - but that's using her. I don't know what else to do, so I suppose I just have to leave it at that - and sooner or later she will find out anyway. She's not stupid, and I'm a bad actor, don't have enough imagination to be a good one. So it'll probably be rather sooner than later. Well, nothing possibly to be done about that. I just have to keep this journal out of her reach.  
  
______________________________________  
  
-###-  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"That's what you ordered. Weißwürstel, they're called. That means 'white sausages'. And that's sweet mustard."  
  
"*Sweet* mustard?"  
  
"Sure. That's traditional for this area. It always goes with Weißwürstel. Here's your pretzel."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"No, wait. You can't just eat it, you have to peel it."  
  
"*Peel* it?"  
  
"Yes. You slit it open with your fork and then you peel it. Like this, look."  
  
"That's...disgusting."  
  
"Yes, I know. Well, there's a reason why I *didn't* order Weißwürstel."  
  
-###-  
  
_________________________________________  
  
Tuesday (Dienstag) the 1st of August 1985 (1.8.985)  
  
I decided too keep this as a weekly journal since I probably wouldn't be able to get away from Petra long enough to make a dayly entry. First I thought I could do it while she's at work but last wednesday, she got me a job. I'm working in a warehouse where I have to carry boxes six hours a day - not really the most thrilling work, but it makes money and you don't have to speak German. Most workers there don't speak German, or just barely. Most of them are from the east - a lot of Turkish people, but also immigrants from Poland and Russia. Some of them even speak some words English, and one of the Polish people, Jurek, I can even talk to. He's the boss of the department I work in, so I don't have much to do wih him, but I think he's okay. Petra knows him - or better, she knows the girlfriend of one of his friends - and that's how she got that job. She didn't say so, but I suppose it's not exactly legal for me to work there. Oh, well, but I'm not getting much for it anyway - five euros an hour. I wouldn't know if that's good or not, but Petra told me the normal wage would be at least eight euros. Anyway I'm getting 150 euros a week, and that's enough for me. At least now I can pay Petra back what she's spending for my maintenance.  
  
I don't think that anything else happened that whould be of interest - exept that it seems that this headache-problem won't solve itself. I had another attack on Saturday - not as bad as on the day I met Petra but bad enough. Petra says I should see a doctor and although I hate to say so, I think she's right. The only problem is that I'm not insured here in this time and I won't be able to pay a check-up with the money I make at the warehouse. Also I would have to give at least some kind of personal data which I just can't. So that'll have to wait.  
  
__________________________________________  
  
-###-  
  
"Do you like it?"  
  
"It's lovely."  
  
"Yes, I always liked our cathedral. It's gothic. That's rare in this area. Most churches and cathedrals here are baroque. But that's nice, too. I love the angels and all the little detailed stucco-ornamets. And you?"  
  
"I don't know. I never really thought about it."  
  
"Oh? Maybe you don't have that where you come from. I wouldn't know, I've never been to England. Well, but you have London, that's very historical, too. When I was still in school I once had an exchange student living at my house, and she said that Germany has so many churches that everybody could have his own church if they wanted to."  
  
"Really? Do you have more churches here in this part of the city?"  
  
"Oh, sure, at least three, probably more. But not this big."  
  
"I see. Do many people still attend services?"  
  
"Oh, some. Not that many. Most people only go on christmas and easter. If they go."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Only like I said on christmas and easter. And that's just a habit, I think. I do believe in God, but not like the church does."  
  
"How then?"  
  
"Different. Do you believe in God?"  
  
"No, not really."  
  
"That's sad. I think everybody should believe in something."  
  
"But has that to be God?"  
  
"...No. But in what would you believe if not in a god of some sort?"  
  
"You could believe in a concept. Logic, for example."  
  
"How could you believe in logic?"  
  
"Well, there are different ways to cope with the problems life confronts you with. You can try to solve them by following your emotions, but also by following some religious rules. Or you can use logic."  
  
"You mean, analyzing every problem and then choosing the logical way to solve it?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"That would be horrible. It would kill the last little bit of humanity that's left in the people of this time. It would eliminate things like sympathy and charity."  
  
"But it would also eliminate things like hate, greed, jealousy..."  
  
"You would accept that price? You would accept it that you turn yourself into an unfeeling computer to get rid of the part of yourself that you're uncomfortable with?"  
  
"You don't have to turn yourself into an unfeeling computer. It's not about getting rid of a part of you, it's about controlling that part."  
  
"If you control any part of you, you lock it up. You lock it up in a cage, and how could you ever be happy like that?"  
  
"It can protect you from a lot of pain that otherwise would make your life miserable."  
  
"Life's never miserable if you take what you've got and make something with it."  
  
"Do you really think so?"  
  
-###-  
  
_______________________________________  
  
Dienstag der 8.8.1985  
  
I wouldn't have thought it possible, but it seems I get used to life in the 20th century. After all, it's not too different to life in the 22nd century on earth - life in space is a completely different matter, of course. The great difference is that these people here don't know that there's life on other planets - most people still think humans are the only sentient species in space. There are countless movies about the subject, though, and Petra told me that there are many people who do believe in extraterrestrial life. To think that right now, the Vulcans are watching earth, waiting for Cochrane to develop warp technology, is scary. And it makes me realize how much I could change by my actions. I couldn't construct a warp engine, that's true, but I could easily show the people of this time how to construct particle weapons or even phase pistols. Not that I intend to do so, but if I would...it would destroy the balance of powers that's just establishing, and it would change everything concerning the Third World War. It would give Germany a great advantage which could - no, which would change the events of the Eugenian Wars. A whole world of what if's is laying open, and I'm afraid that even if I don't tell anyone about the weapons of the 22nd century - and I certainly do not intend to do that - I might change the future by any action or statement that doesn't seem risky at all. I could be the cause of an accident where somebody gets killed that was supposed to live, or I could say something that inspires someone to do something that shouldn't be done. I think I can understand now why Daniels was making such a fuss...  
  
________________________________________  
  
Malcolm put down the pencil and looked up. He had been concentrating on his writing, and suddenly that name had popped up: Daniels. He could perfecly remember the occasion when they had met the strange time traveler from the future: a Suliban had been running rampant on Enterprise and Daniels had tried to reconfigurate the sensors to discover him. It had worked too, but as far as Malcolm could remember - and that he could very well, the mission had not been one of the highlights in his function as Armouy Officer on Enterprise - Daniels had been killed by the Suliban. So why was he thinking of the man now? That mission hadn't been about saving the time line, it had been about keeping Enterprise from getting blown to pieces.  
  
'You're forgetting something, though,' he thought. 'Why would Daniels get himself killed only to save Enterprise? That's your job. Enterprise would only concern him if she's somehow involved in an altering of the time line. And didn't the Captain say something like that? That Enterprise wasn't supposed to be destroyed at that point of time, and that was why Daniels showed up? I think he did.'  
  
So he *had* remembered Danield because of this mission...but somehow that didn't feel right. He had remembered something, but not that mission. During that mission, he hadn't known what was going on, he had only been following orders. Afterwards in the briefing, he had found out what had been happening. But then, Daniels had been dead already. So he couldn't remember Daniels because of this mission since he hadn't really seen him, least of all talked to him then. It was the memory of something else. Should Daniels be responsible for this mess?  
  
'But that can't be. Daniel's dead.'  
  
"Daniel's dead," he said out loud. "He died during that mission. So why do I have the feeling that I should have another memory of him?"  
  
"Because," said a voice from behind him, "you've met me again after the Daniels of this time line died."  
  
"Bloody hell!" Malcolm yelled and leapt from his chair. Behind him a man was standing, grinning. He wore the uniform of a crewman of the Enterpise, had brown hair and an unnerving smile. Daniels.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Malcolm asked wide-eyed.  
  
"I" said Daniels, and his smile broadened, "am here to bring you back to your own time."  
  
"What? You died! You were ripped apart by the phaser shot that Suliban fired at you! You...you can't be here!"  
  
Daniels chuckled. "It seems to me I had this conversation before. Of course it must seem ... unusual to you that I died and am now talking to you, but you see, I'm not the Daniels that died, I'm from another time line, where I survived that mission. But..." he added, frowning, "...you should know that. You were on the bridge when I told the Captain that."  
  
"When you told the Captain what?"  
  
"Well, the reason why I'm here although I died."  
  
"So..." Malcolm said slowly, "...so it *is* because of you that I'm stuck here? You visited Enterprise again?"  
  
"Yes, I did, and I'm surprised that you don't remember that occasion. You went onto the Suliban ship with me, after all."  
  
"I did *what*?"  
  
"You don't remember that?"  
  
"Remember what, for God's sake!"  
  
"Our mission. And how you got here."  
  
Malcolm looked at Daniels, frowning. "No, I *don't* remember how I got here. Did you...send me here somehow?"  
  
"Well, that is surprising. Time travel normally doesn't affect the traveler's memory. Wouldn't come in very handy, would it." He giggled, but sobered up as Reed shot him a glare. "Ahem, yes. What *do* you remember? What's the last thing you can recall?"  
  
Malcolm lifted one eyebrow and considered Daniel's question. The last thing he remembered... He closed his eyes.   
  
"I was at my station on the bridge, working on the duty roster for next week, and the sensors picked something up..a ship of some sort...it was small, and T'Pol wasn't able to identify it...she said it looked like- " Suddenly a sharp jolt of pain cut through his head, and he gasped. Daniel's hand fell on his shoulder.  
  
"Lieutenant? Are you all right?"  
  
Massaging his temples, he waited for the pain to subside. Finally it reduced to a pounding in the back of his head.  
  
"Yes, I'm fine." he answered, opening his eyes to look at the other man.  
  
"What happened?" Daniels asked.  
  
"Since I came here, I sometimes have these...headache attacks, I think you could call them. But it goes away. Nothing to worry about."  
  
Daniels cocked his head. "Maybe you should let me be the judge of that. You didn't have any experience with time travel before you were sent here. Maybe you react in some special way to it."  
  
"Another allergy," Malcolm murmured wryly.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Nothing of importance. What interests me more right now is *why* you sent me back in time."  
  
"Well, actually it wasn't me who sent you back in time, but anyway, if you had stayed in your own time you would have been killed in the explosion of the Suliban ship."  
  
Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Okay, Mr Daniels. Could you please answer my questions in this order: What kind of mission was that where we went onto a Suliban ship, what exactly did we do there, why did the ship explode, and why would anybody send me here, of all times and places?"  
  
"I would love to tell you all that", Daniels said while smiling that unnerving smile, "but it's already three pm, and as far as I know, your host will be returning in about five minutes, and that's just not enough time. You'll have to trust me without explanation. Let's go, we don't have much time." He tried to turn but Malcolm stopped him.  
  
"No, I'm not just leaving. First of all, I have no idea where you want to take me and what you're planning and second of all, I owe Petra a lot. I can't just disappear without a word." He crossed his arms over his chest and added, "I have to tell her what I am. I kept it from her way too long anyway."  
  
Daniels eyes widenend and the grin disappeared.  
  
"Are you crazy? Do you know what you could set off by telling people who you are? You didn't tell anyone while you were here, did you?"  
  
Taken aback by Daniels outburst, Reed shook his head. "No, I didn't. But what difference would it make? People wouldn't believe me anyway."  
  
"You can't be sure of that. People believe the craziest stuff. Believe me, I know. The first thing you learn during the training for time traveling is: never tell anyone about your real identity."  
  
"But then, why did you tell us - the Enterprise crew - the truth? I mean, we are people from the past for you."  
  
"That was something different. You aren't as primitive as this 20th century culture; and I kept the knowledge to as few people as possible. But now," he added, glancing at the door, "we really have to go."  
  
"I told you, I'm not just leaving like that. And if you don't tell me what you're planning to do, I'm not coming anyway."  
  
"Lieutenant! We really have to leave!"  
  
"No, I'm not just sneaking out of here."  
  
Suddenly there was a rattling at the door. Keys being turned in the lock. Daniels let out an exasperated sigh and looked at Reed who still had his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"Okay Lieutenant, say good-bye and whatever you have to say. But please keep it short and the minute you're done, come to me. I'll be waiting outside." With that he disappeared. Surprised Reed stared at the space Daniels had occupied just seconds ago. Then he heard Petra calling him:  
  
"Malcolm! Malcolm, I'm home!"  
  
Biting his lip, he grabbed his journal from the table and turned, wondering what he should tell her. He went into the kitchen where she was already fussing around, putting away the groceries she had bought.  
  
"Hi, how was your day? I can tell you, Malcolm, I had the worst day since God sent the Flood! First, Sonja didn't show up for work, then the stupid computer broke down, and you know I can't make that thing do what I want at the best of times..."  
  
"Petra..."  
  
"...and then I had to call Jonas, of all people, to tell me how to get it running again - by the way, why didn't you answer the phone, I tried to call you!"  
  
"I was at work. But Petra..."  
  
"Oh yes sure you were working, how stupid of me...were you saying something?"  
  
"Yes." He sighed. He really didn't like what he was about to do. "Petra, I have to tell you something."  
  
"Oh?" She turned, looking at him.  
  
"Yes. Petra...I have to go."  
  
"What? Where do you want to go?"  
  
"I have to leave. I can't tell you where I'm going, but it is pretty sure that you'll never see me again."  
  
'Oh my God, you sound like one of these characters from these books with titles like 'Emily's Love',' he thought. 'But that's what you're aiming at, isn't it?'  
  
"But...you're leaving?" She stared at him wide-eyed.  
  
"Yes, and I wanted to thank you for everything. Without you I...I don't know what I would have done, and I owe you everything." He turned and hoped it would be over, but then he felt Petra's arms around him, holding him in a desperate hug.  
  
"Don't leave me, please! I...I never told you, but I think I'm in love with you."  
  
He sighed inwardly and wriggled from her embrace, grabbing her wrists and looking her into the eyes.  
  
"Petra, I *have* to go. I can't tell you where I'm going and why, but I'm sure we'll never see us again. So please...don't make this harder than it already is."  
  
She looked at him, and tears quelled into her eyes.  
  
"Please," she whispered, "don't leave me."  
  
"I have to," he repeated. "Thank you so much for everything. Good-bye."  
  
Letting go of her, he turned and fled from the apartment. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
You never want to fight against the river law  
  
Nobody rules the waves  
  
Dire Straits, Single Handed Sailor  
  
Outside, Daniels was waiting as promised. Pushing his embarrassment and self-contempt about the good-bye scene aside, Malcolm was just opening his mouth to ask what they were going to do now when Daniels turned and headed down the street, setting a killer pace. Rolling his eyes, Malcolm hurried to catch up.  
  
"Where are we going now?"  
  
Daniels shot him a glance. "We have to get to a meeting point where a friend of mine will be waiting to bring us back to the 22nd century."  
  
"You can't do this yourself?"  
  
"It's not that easy, Lieutenant." Daniels said.  
  
"Okay," Malcolm said, sighing silently. "Where's that meeting point?"  
  
"It's in this city," Daniels answered. "I don't know exactly where it is, but it's this way."  
  
"Well, while we're walking you could finally answer my questions why I'm here."  
  
Daniels suddenly stopped, eyes downcast. He looked up as Reed came up beside him, a questioning look on his face, and said:  
  
"I'd rather not, Lieutenant."  
  
"What?" Malcolm blinked. "Why not?"  
  
"I can't tell you that. You have to tru-"  
  
"Okay!" Malcolm interrupted him furiously. "You came to Enterprise to fulfill some mysterious mission, you messed with the Suliban and I was sent back to the 20th century and now that you found out that I don't remember anything of what happened, you don't want to tell me and say that I should bloody trust you! Do you know what I think? It is not too far fetched, I'd say, that you might plan something that's not absolutely legalized by your mysterious time-protection-organization. Or that you already did something like that. And now you want me to trust you? I mean, I know people say I'm paranoid, but in this case even Trip would get suspicious!"  
  
Daniels, who had listened to the outburst with a stern expression on his face, sighed.  
  
"I know this must seem very suspicious, but I can't tell you. It would destroy any sight chance we might have to bring you home safely."  
  
"Could you just stop talking in riddles? Either tell me or tell me why you can't, but stop giving me these hints, they're driving me crazy!"  
  
"Hints is everything I can give you and- " he held up a hand as he saw Reed taking another deep breath," -*and* if we don't start walking again soon, we can give up right here anyway. Lieutenant, you *have* to trust me. Please. I know it's hard in this situation, and I know it's harder for you than for anybody else, but it's the only possibility. Please, Lieutenant. Trust someone. Just once."  
  
Reed crossed his arms, frowning, and considered what Daniels had said. In the end, it really came down to that: it was the only possibility. He could stay, and he could go, and if there was the slightest chance that he could return to Enterprise staying wasn't really an option. Reluctantly, he nodded.  
  
"Very well. I'll trust you on this one. But when this is over, I want a complete explanation, with emphasis on complete. No riddles and no hints."  
  
"Sure, Lieutenant. No riddles, no hints. A complete explanation; gold framed." The smile appeared again on Daniels' face as they turned and started walking again.  
  
-###-  
  
'I knew it,' Malcolm thought, dismayed. 'With my luck in the past few weeks, how could it be else.'  
  
They were standing next to a broad river that ran through the middle of the city. Malcolm knew that its name was Danube, Petra had told him on one of their very few tours through the city. He had seen that there were big steam boats for tourists, but he had had no intention of going on one of them. They had looked very old-fashioned and not at all save. They in fact still looked like that, but to Daniels that obviously didn't matter. Smiling happily, Daniels was just lining up for tickets for a cruise on one of the boats, and Malcolm followed him reluctantly. Daniels had told him that they were supposed to meet the other person on the four pm cruise, and although Malcolm wondered why Daniels had chosen a steam boat, of all places, he was keeping his promise and trusting Daniels.  
  
"There you go, Lieutenant," Daniels said cheerfully and handed him his ticket. Taking it, he looked at it doubtfully and then shoved it into his pocket. He followed Daniels who was walking towards a group of tourists who were also waiting for the gate to open so they could board the steamer.  
  
"Are you alright, Lieutenant? " Daniels asked him when he came up beside him. "You look like something is causing you discomfort."  
  
Malcolm forced a smile. "I'm fine, thank you. It's just that...you know, I don't really like being on a ship or boat. I prefer dry land."  
  
"Oh really? I didn't know that. Well, I'm sorry, but it is necessary. If I'd known it, we could have met somewhere else but..."  
  
"It's alright," Malcolm interupted him. "As long as we really stay *on* the boat..."  
  
-###-  
  
"Where is he?" Daniels muttered and scanned the nearly-empty room thoroughly. They were on the middle deck where Daniels had said they should meet the person who could bring them back.  
  
"He's not here?" Malcolm asked. He had been nervous from the minute they had boarded the boat and now, looking at Daniels' tense expression, his unease deepened.  
  
"No. He should be, he told me he'd meet me at 0415 hours. And now it's already 0423."  
  
Malcolm swallowed. "Maybe he was delayed by something."  
  
"No. This is first priority, he wouldn't just come late." Suddenly Daniels turned and looked at Reed. "How's your head, Lieutenant?"  
  
"What?" Malcolm asked, confused by the sudden change of subject.  
  
"Your head. You told me you're having 'headache attacks'. Do you feel anything right now?"  
  
"No" Reed answered, frowning. "Well, I do have a bit of a headache, but nothing like these attacks I told you about." 'Considering where I am it's no wonder that I feel a little queasy', he added in thought.  
  
"Do you have that often since you're here?" Daniels asked.  
  
"Why? Is there something I should know about time travel effects?"  
  
"I'm sorry Lieutenant, but..."  
  
"...you can't tell me." Malcolm finished dryly, and Daniels smiled apologetically.  
  
"I would if I could Lieutenant, but the risk is just too high."  
  
"It's quite alright. I just hope your friend will turn up soon."  
  
Once again Daniels scanned the room with his eyes.  
  
"He's not here. Maybe he's on one of the other decks. Come on, let's..."  
  
A beeping interupted him. Daniels dug a small silver object from his pocket and pressed a button.  
  
"What's that?" Malcolm asked.  
  
"That's a scanner," Daniels said, watching a small display appear on the smooth surface of the object. He stared at it for a second, then his eyes widened and he leapt to his feet.  
  
"We have to get out of here! There's a Suliban on the ship!"  
  
Malcolm scrambled to his feet when suddenly two phaser shots were fired at the couple that were the only other people in the room. Malcolm looked for the source and saw a Suliban materialize in front of a wall. He saw the alien turn and aim, and, grabbing Daniels by the sleeve, he dragged him under one of the tables. A second later a phaser blast hit the spot where they had been standing.  
  
"What's he doing here?" Reed hissed.  
  
"He wants to keep you from returning to the 22nd century."  
  
"But- " he ducked as another shot hit the table. " -why?"  
  
"Can't tell you." said Daniels as he pulled two small rectangular objects from his pocket. One he tossed to Malcolm.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Phaser." Daniels answered and immediately fired a shot at the advancing Suliban, who recoiled and also dived under one of the tables.  
  
"A phaser?" Malcolm asked unbelieving, aiming with the small device and pushing the button. A blast hit the table under which the Suliban was hiding.  
  
"When I yell we try to run to the door. Keep firing." Daniels whispered. He fired another shot and then shouted: "Now!"  
  
They got out from under the table and immediately were surrounded by phaser blasts. Shoving Daniels towards the door, Reed ducked to avoid the shots and fired at the Suliban, hitting him in the chest. Staggering backwards, the Suliban dropped his weapon and vanished. Reed stared at the small weapon in his handand the looked at Daniels who was standing next to the door.  
  
"This thing was set to kill?"  
  
"Yes, indeed." Daniels said with an apologetical smile on his face. "You can't stun a Suliban. At least not one of the Cabal."  
  
"So you just kill them." Malcolm stated.  
  
"Well, yes, of course. If we don't they kill us."  
  
"*His* phaser," he said, pointing to the weapon laying on the floor, "was set on stun. He wouldn't have killed us."  
  
"Well, he would have taken us onto his ship and done something even more unpleasant. Come on, we have to get out of here, there are apt to be more Suliban on the boat."  
  
"And where do you want to go? You're forgetting that we're on a river. You can't just walk out the front door."  
  
"You can swim, can't you, Lieutenant? Now come on, we wasted enough time already." He turned and walked out, and Reed whose eyes had widened at Daniels' last sentence hurried to catch up.  
  
"What do you mean? Do you just want to jump into the river and hope the Suliban won't fire at us while we're in the water?"  
  
"They won't. They don't want to disturb the time-line, and firing at us while we're in the water would be noticed by the people on the ship. Why do you think the Suliban in there stunned the couple first? He didn't want them to see anything."  
  
"But...you're crazy! We can't just jump from the boat!"  
  
"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" Daniels tilted his head to one side."If I didn't know better I'd say you're scared."  
  
'Yes, I am scared,' Malcolm thought, 'but you wouldn't give a shit if I told you.' Forcing a smile, he followed Daniels to the narrow staircase leading to the lower decks. He felt cold sweat on his back and his mouth was dry. 'I don't think I can't do this', he thought.  
  
Suddenly the scanner beeped again. Daniels looked at the display.  
  
"Another two Suliban are coming this way," he said. "Quick, we have to get somewhere where there're people."  
  
They ran down the stairs and came into a small passage that lead to the board restaurant. Just as they wanted to enter, a Suliban appeared before them. Malcolm whirled around and faced another one.  
  
"There you are, Daniels." one of them said. "Now you can't hide anymore. A pity that I have order to kill you, though. I'd rather just send you back to face your superiors. That would be much more fun."  
  
"What did you do to Johnson?" Daniels asked the one that had spoken.  
  
"He won't bother anybody anymore. Now move aside. Important business first."  
  
He shoved Daniels towards the other Suliban and turned to look at Reed.  
  
"You are much more trouble than you look like." he said. Malcolm raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Am I supposed to remember you?" he asked.  
  
The Suliban laughed. "No. But I thought you would since you seem to be able to remember anything else so well." At Reed's puzzled look he smiled and added: "What, can it really be that you don't remember me? I'm offended, Lieutenant, I really am. After all, you were a guest on my ship for, let's see...about twenty minutes. But, considering it, I don't think you enjoyed your stay. What, still no memory of me?"  
  
Reed stared at the Suliban. He had no idea what the man was talking about. Obviously the alien had something to do with his visit to a Suliban ship Daniels had mentioned, but his mind refused stubbornly to release the information. Trying harder, he searched for the lost memory, and suddenly a name popped up.  
  
"You're Kiles!" he exclaimed. Then he cried out as pain exploded behind his eyes. Staggering backwards, he felt hands grabbing his arm and he heard someone saying something, then everything went black.  
  
-###-  
  
He heard someone calling his name and felt a hand laying on his shoulder. Groaning, he opened his eyes and looked into the blurred face of Crewman Daniels.  
  
"Ah, Lieutenant."  
  
"What happened?" he asked and tried to sit up. Daniels pushed him back down.  
  
"Relax. We're in no hurry."  
  
"But...what about the Suliban?"  
  
"They're gone. I don't know where they are, but I don't think they're still on the boat."  
  
"And we are?"  
  
"Yes, indeed."  
  
Malcolm sighed. "Would you please tell me what happened?"  
  
"You cried out before you passed out. That alerted some people in the board restaurant and they came to see if everything was alright. And since the Suliban are obviously very keen on protecting this time line they couldn't let themselves be seen and disappeared. The people from the board restaurant helped me get you here into the backroom of the boat's kitchen. Right now there are at least five people in front of the door, so the Suliban would have no chance to attack us." He lifted his eyebrows. "And you, Lieutenant? What happened with you?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Reed answered, sitting up. "Suddenly it felt like my head was going to explode, and then I passed out."  
  
Daniels sighed. "I thought so. Well, I'm afraid it'll happen more often until we can get you back to the 22nd century."  
  
"Why? Do you know the cause of it?"  
  
"I think so. But I can't tell you."  
  
Malcolm opened his mouth, considered, and closed it again, giving Daniels an exasperated look.  
  
"This is getting old, Daniels."  
  
"Sorry, I really can't tell you. At least not until I know more." He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. "We should land in about five minutes, then we'll be able to get off this boat and think about what we do next. Do you think you can get up?"  
  
"Sure," Malcolm said and got to his feet.  
  
"You're sure you're alright?"  
  
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you."  
  
"Well, then let's go. I think we're already there."  
  
"Okay. The sooner we get off this boat the better."  
  
-###-  
  
"You still didn't get him, Kiles?"  
  
"The human from the future protects him."  
  
"But the human from the future is on his own, you eliminated the other human so he can't return and he can't get help from his organisation. He should not be a problem."  
  
"He could get help from their agent."  
  
"Well, that would make it very easy, wouldn't it. Then we do not need the human you captured. Just follow the other one. He will lead you. But don't eliminate the one with the implant. You can observe the other one through him."  
  
"The implant doesn't work the way we planned it to."  
  
"Are you able to receive anything?"  
  
"Just glimpses."  
  
"That is enough. Do as I told you, and you will be successful."  
  
"I will."  
  
"Good. You can go."  
  
-###-  
  
"I'm not moving one more step if you don't finally tell me what's going on!"  
  
Reed, his arms crossed over his chest, was glaring at Daniels, who had a rather desperate look on his face.  
  
"Please, Lieutenant. I *can't* tell you, if I could I would have done so long ago."  
  
"But why can't you tell me, for God's sake? Since I met you, all I hear is 'I can't tell you that'. If another bunch of Suliban attacks us, I at least want to know why!"  
  
Daniels looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath.  
  
"Lieutenant, you said you'd trust me. If you don't want to, fine, but then I can't help you." He turned to go, then stopped and looked back at Reed. "Maybe it'll help if I tell you that I'm here against direct orders of my superiors."  
  
"What?" Reed's eyes widened. "Why..."  
  
"That mission during which you were sent back here was a catastrophe." Daniels said while he started walking again. Reed hurried to catch up. "I did achieve my goal, but the fact that you were removed from the 22nd century made my achievement useless. Your disappearance altered the time line in a way that wasn't desastrous but put us into disadvantage against the Cabal. I volunteered to get you back, but my superiors decided that would be too risky since we didn't know anything about the situation - where you were and if you weren't dead already anyway. Well, me and a bunch of other people didn't want to accept that, first of all because then the work of years would have been wasted, and second-" he turned and looked at Reed "-because we could imagine that you're not too happy wherever you might be. So we decided that in this case we'll put our own judgement over that of our superiors and get you back anyway." He lowered his gaze. "The guy we should have met on the boat, Johnson, lost his life for that. I think you could be at least a little bit grateful."  
  
Reed stared at the other man, lost for words. He swallowed and cleared his throat.  
  
"I...I didn't know that. If I would've I'd never..."  
  
"Well, now you know. So maybe you could stop bugging me about things I won't tell you anyway."  
  
Malcolm nodded, looking at the other man thoughtfully. Since he had met Daniels, he had made the impression of a young, wet-behind-the-ears and slightly arrogant man. Now Reed thought that he might have to reconsider. Daniels had screwed up on a mission and had seen that his superiors denied him the possibility of straightening out his mistake, so he had ignored them and taken on the responsibility. Reed wasn't sure if he approved of that but he knew that one needed a lot of courage to do something like that. And Daniels seemed like he knew what consequences his actions would have.  
  
'Maybe I was the one who was being arrogant,' he thought ruefully. 'Wouldn't have been the first time.'  
  
-###-  
  
"Here we are." Daniels said ten minutes later. They were standing in front of an apartment building in an old and seedy part of town. Looking around, Malcolm was remembered of his first encounter with Germany 1985: garbage cans and broken glass everywhere. He turned to Daniels.  
  
"Okay, what do we want here?"  
  
"Meet someone who'll be able to help us." Daniels answered and pushed the door open. Reed followed him into the building.  
  
After they had climbed the stairs to the fifth floor Daniels finally stopped in front of one of the doors and knocked. The two men waited, and just as Reed opened his mouth to suggest that maybe no one was home they heared a key being turned in the lock, and the the door opened, releasing the view on a man in his late thirties. Reed's eys widened.  
  
"Oh my God, *you*!" he cried in surprise, gaping at the apartment's inhabitant. "How..." He turned and stared at Daniels who looked equally surprised, but for another reason.  
  
"You know him?" he asked. Reed turned back to the man who was still standing in the doorway.  
  
"Yes I do. I met him shortly after I got here. His name's Frank."  
  
-###-  
  
"So you found you memory." Frank said after he had led them into the apartment's small living room.  
  
"Yes. Actually, it happened just after our conversation." Reed answered. He still couldn't quite believe that this was happening.  
  
"How interesting. Well, when I met you I thought that you, like me, were an agent from some organisation, and I didn't know if I could trust you, so I preferred to play the native German of 1985 instead of blowing my cover and finding out who you really are. I tried to find you after you disappeared, though, but couldn't. You did a good hiding job."  
  
"You're an agent? What kind?"  
  
"I do what most agents do. I work undercover and try to find out if the enemy plans anything. I belong to the organisation Daniels is a member of, too, and our 'enemy' are the Cabal. Some time ago, they were pretty busy sending people back into this decade, so we decided an agent wouldn't be a bad idea. And here I am, spying on the Suliban, although I can tell you in the two years I'm living here I didn't find out much. Well, Daniels," he said and turned to the other man, "why did you come here?"  
  
"I need your help. Lieutenant Reed's not supposed to be here, and I have no possibility to send him back. Or let's say, the Suliban eliminated my possibility."  
  
"They didn't get your temporal resequencer, did they? Please tell me they didn't."  
  
"No, they didn't get my temporal resequencer because I didn't have one from the beginning. My mission here is...not really authorized."  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"That I'm here against my orders. I came here from the 31st century through the time gate - without permission - and wanted to use the Guardian to get back. But they got Johnson."  
  
"What guardian?" asked Malcolm.  
  
"Doesn't matter," Frank said and immediately turned back to Daniels. "The Guardian? Good plan, Daniels, you're just forgetting that it was destroyed."  
  
"Yes, I know, but that was 2974, I think. We could have gone to the 22nd century. That's why Johnson was in on the whole thing. You know, Johnson, the guy who was in command over the station on the Guardian's planet."  
  
"Oh, you planned to just jump into the 22nd century? And how would you've gotten back home?"  
  
"I would have let my people from the 31st catch me. But that doesn't matter now since we can't use the Guardidan."  
  
"So you want me to send you back?"  
  
"If you would?" Daniels gave him a pleading look. "Please, the metaphase deflectors aren't worth a dime if Lieutenant Reed doesn't develop EM force field technology in the 22nd century."  
  
"What metaphase deflectors?"  
  
"You didn't read the message we sent you?" Daniels asked, sitting up in his chair.  
  
"Well, come on. If I'd read every message that comes in I would be busy all day." Frank said indignantly.  
  
"Oh my God! And I thought you were just being stubborn and ignoring us! But you never even read it! I can't believe it!"  
  
"What did it say, your oh-so-important message?"  
  
"Well, it explained for example that a starfleet officer from the 22nd century got lost in time and that it`s possible that he's somewhere in your decade. And it said that he disappeared during a mission where I successfully tried to steal the metaphase deflector specs from the Suliban but that these specs are useless if Lieutenant Reed doesn't develop EM field technology which is the very basis for metaphase technology. *And* it said..." and Daniels shot Frank a very dirty look "...that if you could by any chance find out where the lost starfleet officer was you should please send him back so that we wouldn't have to disobey direct orders and come back here to find him ourselves!"  
  
"Ahem..." Frank cleared his throat. "Did *you* send that message?"  
  
"No, Lenning did, why?"  
  
"Well..." Frank said uncomfortably, "normally I just throw out the messages Lenning sends me without reading them. Might have happened with that one, too."  
  
Daniels took a deep breat and let it out in an exasperated sigh. "You're such an ignorant pig, Frank, sometimes I wonder why Command gave you that job here."  
  
"They obviously thought I'm the right one to do it." Frank said defensively.  
  
Malcolm looked from one man to the other. He only had a slight hunch what they were talking about, but he didn't think they should waste time fighting about that message, although he could perfectly sypathize with Daniels. He didn't know what he would have done in Daniels' position, but he doubted he would have left it at the 'ignorant pig'-comment.  
  
"Excuse me, " he said. The two men looked at him, surprised either because they had forgotten that he was there or because he had decided to say something. "I don't want to interrupt you, but maybe we should think about the Suliban. I'm sure they're still looking for us, and I don't think this place is that hard to find."  
  
"You're right, Lieutenant. Well," Daniels said and turned to Frank "will you help us?"  
  
"After overlooking your message, I don't really have a choice, do I?"  
  
"No, you don't."  
  
-###-  
  
"We located them."  
  
"Very good. Where are they?"  
  
"Still in the 20th century. It seems like they're really trying to get help from their spy. Should we attack immediately?"  
  
"I'll leave the choice of time up to you, Kiles. But don't wait too long, we don't want them to get away, do we. Can you receive anything from the implant?"  
  
"No, we are out of range."  
  
"Try to make use of it as much as possible. It was too much trouble to install it to just waste the chance now. But like I said, don't wait too long."  
  
"I won't. Do you want prisoners?"  
  
"Why should I? They'd be just more trouble."  
  
-###-  
  
"Here it is," Frank said and pulled a small gadget from a save that had been hidden behind a picture. He dusted it off and handed it to Daniels who immediately pushed a button. The display came to live.  
  
"What's that?" Malcolm asked. It was getting a little annoying that he was never able to understand what was going on. A few times he had felt the urge to just shake the information out of Daniels - or Frank for that matter - but until now he had been able to control himself.  
  
"That is a temporal resequencer. It's a device our organisation uses for time traveling." Daniels answered, pushing some more buttons. Malcolm gasped as suddenly the room disappeared and they were surrounded by something that looked like three-D star charts. He looked around wide-eyed, and then turned to Daniels and Frank who were looking at a red line that run from the floor in a slight angle up to the height of Daniels elbow. At that point it parted, one line continuing ascending and the other one descending again.  
  
"We are here," Daniels said to Reed, pointing to the descending line. "And we want to get there." And he pointed at the ascending line. Malcolm followed his finger and stared at the tiny red line. Daniels pushed another button and the sector of the chart zoomed in. Now you could make out small models of planets and stars along the red thread. Malcolm looked closer and discovered a miniature of the nebula they had been cartographing when he still had been on Enterprise. It was right next to the parting point of the line.  
  
'This is better than any log entry ever could be,' he thought, amazed. 'You just take this thing and it records everything you do, and you can go back to any point during your mission any time you want. I bet if he zoomed in just a little bit more, I could make out the Suliban ship that...'  
  
Be fore he could finish the thought a sharp pain cut through his head and he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. Not noticing Frank's and Daniels' concerned questions, he could suddenly hear voices. And he could see something...no, someone in the dark shadows behind his eyelids. A man, bent over and looking at something another man was holding in his hand.  
  
//are you receiving anything\\  
  
//no, only shawdows and glimpses like before\\  
  
//increase the input\\  
  
The man holding the device pushed some buttons, and suddenly the pain in his head doubled, making him groan. Reed sank to his knees, his hands holding his head.  
  
"No..." he whispered, "no, please, stop..."  
  
The shapes behind is eyelids moved.  
  
//nothing...I think he's blocking it somehow\\  
  
//that can't be, he's only human\\  
  
//this is a waste of time, let's go\\  
  
//maybe you're right\\  
  
The man put the device away, and immediately the pictures disappeared. Gasping, Malcolm opened his eyes and blinked at Daniels and Frank who were staring at him.  
  
"Are you alright, Lieutenant?" Daniels asked, kneeling down beside him.  
  
"They're coming." Reed said breathlessly. "The Suliban. I saw them."  
  
"You saw them?" Daniels asked. "How...?"  
  
"Doesn't matter." Reed shook his head but stopped at the pain it caused. "They're coming! They know where we are!"  
  
"Oh hell!" Daniels leapt to his feet. "Frank! Give me the temporal..."  
  
A phaser blast interupted him, emerging from seemingly thin air and hitting Frank square in the chest. Frank was slung backward and hit the floor, the temporal resequencer flying from his fingers. Reed tried to watch its course but was distracted violently as a phaser shot hit the floor right beside him, burning his hand. He yelped and hurried to seek shelter behind one of the armchairs. A quick look around told him all he wanted to know. Three Suliban had appeared in the room, all armed with the same kind of weapon the Suliban on the boat had used. Frank was laying on the floor, either unconscious or dead. Daniels was cowering behind the other armchair and was firing his own phaser at the intruders. As Malcolm looked, Daniels hit one of them and the Suliban dissolved. Noticing Reed, he yelled:  
  
"Get the resequencer!" and immediately fired at a Suliban who had tried to advance on Reed's position. Scanning the room frantically, Malcolm could finally see something silver flicker behind the curtains. Glancing back and seeing that the two Suliban were still distracted by Daniels he ignored the flaring pain in his head and leapt for the small device. He could barely avoid another blast, then he grabbed the resequencer.  
  
"Hit the red button!" Daniels yelled from across the room, and then cried out as a shot hit the chair, taking away the top half of the backrest.  
  
Looking down, Malcolm saw a small red button next to the display and was about to hit it as he saw one of the Suliban aiming at him. He ducked and the shot hit the wall behind him, burning a hole into it. He didn't wait any longer and pushed the button. Immediately a glowing gate of light appeared in front of him. Clutching the resequencer tightly to his chest, he shoved himself forward and disappeared through the gate. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Why worry, there should be laughter after pain  
  
There should be sunshine after rain  
  
These things have always been the same  
  
Dire Straits, Why Worry  
  
Ensign Cutler was whisteling happily while she was putting away some samples she had gathered on the small class M planet they were currently exploring. Yesterday they had taken the new Armoury Officer on board and were now able to continue their journey as complete crew. The away mission today had been the first visit to a new planet since Lieutenant Reed's death, and it had been very awkward in the beginning. Malcolm's absence had been too obvious and the new Armoury Officer - 'Picard,' Cutler reminded herself sternly, 'his name is Picard' - had seemed like an intruder. But after a few hours the tension had lessened and even Captain Archer, who had seemed somewhat depressed in the last days, had been smiling and obviously having a good time. 'I think the crew's getting over it,' Cutler thought. 'Especially Captain Archer. It was shock for him, for us all, to lose Malcolm like that, but I think we're getting over it.'  
  
Suddenly she heard a thud and looked toward the door that was standing open.  
  
"Doctor?" she called. When she got no response, she walked out of the laboratory into sickbay, looking around. Suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks and gaped. Kneeling next to one of the biobeds was...  
  
"No. Nonononono, that's impossible," she murmured and jumped as the man kneeling on the floor lifted his head and looked around. His gaze swept across sickbay, and then he finally noticed her. Lieutenant Reed smiled.  
  
"Ensign Cutler. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."  
  
Breaking away from his gaze she blinked and shook her head violently. But when she openend her eyes he was still there, and trying to get up. Hurrying over to him, she helped him sit down on the biobed.  
  
"Thank you Ensign, but I'm fine." he said.  
  
"No! You're dead!" she exclaimed. He looked at her, startled, and she considered what she had just said. "Well, at least we thought you were dead..." she added hastily. Reed chuckled.  
  
"Seems like I came to the right point in time." he murmured. Giving him a careful look, Cutler retreated a step backwards. "Ahem, I'm going to call Dr. Phlox...and Captain Archer." she said. It seemed like the right thing to do and besides, she wanted someone to come and tell her that the man sitting on the biobed was no hallucination but really Lieutenant Reed. He just nodded and started fiddling with a small silver device she hadn't noticed before. Turning she hurried to the nearest comm and called for Captain Archer.  
  
-###-  
  
A part of Malcolm wondered why he wasn't beside himself with happiness to be back on Enterprise, but only a small one. The rest of him was occupied with the task of ignoring the raging pain in his head and figuring out how to make the temporal resequencer work. When he had left, Daniels had been surrounded by two Suliban, and Reed had taken the only get-away chance with him into the 22nd century. So if he didn't find out how to send the resequencer back Daniels wouldn't have a chance. Pushing some buttons he hoped to hit the one that made the three-D-charts appear. That didn't happen, though, instead a group of numbers popped up on the display.  
  
"Bloody hell!" Malcolm murmured and studied the display. The numbers looked like coordinates, only that there were four parts instead of the normal three. 'Time coordinates,' he thought and stared at the surplus numbers.  
  
'Well, I don't know the coordinates anyway. Let's just hope these are the right ones', he thought and hit the red button. The glimmering gate appeared.  
  
"What are you doing?" he heard Cutler's amazed voice from behind him.  
  
"Trying to send this thing into a living room of an apartment in Germany of 1985." he said without turning and tossed the resequencer into the gate. As soon as it had passed through the glimmering frame disappeared, taking the device with it. Cutler gasped.  
  
"Oo-kay, I *don't* want to know what you just meant by that or what you just did." she said.  
  
"No, I wish I wouldn't either." Malcolm said, starting to shake his head but stopping immediately as the room began to turn slowly. He grabbed the side of the biobed for support but would have fallen anyway if Cutler hadn't grabbed him by the shoulders, steadying him.  
  
"Are you alright, Lieutenant?" she asked. "You look..." Then she cried out in surprise as Daniels appeared suddenly beside her. He looked around, orienting himself, then his gaze fell on Reed and Cutler.  
  
"Lieutenant, Ensign." He nodded greetingly. "Permission to come on board?"  
  
Cutler stared at him wide-eyed and Reed just opened his mouth to speak when they heard a furious voice from the door.  
  
"What the hell are *you* doing on my ship *again*?"  
  
Archer marched through the door, closely followed by Dr. Phlox. Daniels quickly turned and smiled.  
  
"Captain Archer!"  
  
"What are you doing here? You said you wouldn't..." Archer stopped and gaped at Reed.  
  
"Hello, sir."  
  
"What the *hell*? Malcolm?" Archer's gaze swept to Daniels. "Would you mind explaining that?"  
  
"Not at all, Captain. Lieutenant, how are you feeling?"  
  
"I've got a bit of a headache but nothing that could keep me from hearing that explanation." Reed slid off the biobed and immediately started swaying. Phlox stepped forward and pushed him back onto the biobed.  
  
"I'm afraid it *will* keep you from hearing the explanation. I don't know what's causing your condition but you wont leave sickbay before I find out. By the way, welcome back, Lieutenant."  
  
Reed groaned. "Please, Captain, don't let him lock me up in sickbay the first day I'm back!"  
  
"I'm afraid the Captain can't say much in that matter since in sickbay I'm in command." Phlox smiled. "But I promise I will let you go as soon as possible."  
  
Malcolm opened his mouth to protest as something cold stirred at his neck. The hypospray hissed and he felt himself relax.  
  
"That was mean." he murmured as his eyelids slid closed.  
  
"Maybe, Lieutenant, but it makes my work much easier." Phlox turned to Daniels and the Captain. "I gather the Lieutenant was brought back by you?" he asked, looking at Daniels.  
  
"That's right," he answered.  
  
"You wouldn't by any chance know what's causing his condition?"  
  
"In fact I do. The Suliban implanted the Lieutenant a small device to be able to observe his actions."  
  
"What?!" Archer exclaimed.  
  
"I'll explain in a minute, captain." Daniels said to Archer and turned back to Phlox. "I suppose the Lieutenant's body reacted very violent. As far as I know the implant didn't work, either. It's a very new technology developed by the Cabal."  
  
"Thank you, Mr Daniels." Phlox said and smiled his broad smile.  
  
"And now, Daniels, I want a complete explanation." Archer said, his arms crossed over his chest. Daniels smiled.  
  
"That you will get, Captain. Gold-framed."  
  
-###-  
  
"So the Suliban set a trap to catch you and implant you that device so they could send you back to the 20th century and find out where your agent there was hiding. But it didn't work and so they just took Malcolm instead of you." Archer summed up the half-hour-explanation he, T'Pol and Trip had received in the Captain's ready room. Daniels nodded. "That's pretty much it."  
  
"That's the craziest story I've ever heard. But I believe you, I think I have to since you have Malcolm to proof it." Archer shook his head and looked at T'Pol. "What do you think, Subcommander?"  
  
"Although I am still sceptical concerning time travel I must admit that this story explains a lot. Even though in a very...creative way," she added and lifted an eyebrow at Daniels, who shrugged apologetically.  
  
"You have to be creative if you're dealing with time travel. And a little crazy too, for that matter. Well," he said, "I have to go. Now that I have the temporal resequencer, I don't have to be *creative* to return to the 31st century." He smiled at T'Pol who didn't look amused. "Captain, would you please thank Lieutenant Reed in my place for sending back the resequencer, it was a great help. And I apologize I wasn't able to give him the explanation I promised personally, but I think you can tell him."  
  
"Why does Malcolm need an explanation?" Trip spoke up suddenly. "He was with ya, wasn't he?"  
  
"He was with me but I couldn't tell him what was going on since I didn't know how much of the information I'd give him the Suliban would get as well by using the implant."  
  
"I bet he loved that." Trip said smiling.  
  
"He was a little...impatient, that's true." Daniels said and then turned to Archer. "Captain, I have to go. I apologize for causing you so much trouble and I hope I won't have to ask for your help again in the nearer future. Thank you and good-bye." He pushed the little red button on the resequencer and vanished through the glimmering gate.  
  
"That's one of the people I love to see goin'." Trip said when Daniels was gone.  
  
"Hey, he brought Malcolm back after all. But you're right, I always get a feeling of doom when he's in the room." Archer shook his head, then sighed. "T'Pol, how far are we away from the Skon?"  
  
"53 hours at warp four," she answered.  
  
"Tell Mayweather to set a course. We have one Armoury Officer too much."  
  
"Aye sir." She got up and left the room. Archer stayed where he was, staring at his hands, lost in thoughts.  
  
"So he's really back?" Trip asked after several minutes had passed. Archer looked up.  
  
"Yeah, Trip, he's in sickbay. I've still trouble believing it, but it's true."  
  
Trip shook his head, then laughed. "That's crazy. I mean...even his quarters are cleared, Picard already moved in there...oh my God what will Malcolm say when he hears that a Frenchman took over his armoury?"  
  
Archer chuckled. "I don't think he'll be pleased. But then, it could have been the Queen and he'd still say she messed up his department."  
  
"That's true." Trip said. "Captain, I know I'm still on duty, but..."  
  
"Sure you can go see him. I'll come with you and see how he's doing."  
  
-###-  
  
"The implant was attached to his brainstem. I could remove it without problems, but unfortunately had to damage a crucial part of the device, so I'm afraid it will be useless for studies of any kind. What it did was that it analyzed the electrical impulses sent to Mr Reed's brain from any part of his body, especially from his sense organs and then forwarded them to the receiving person, who probably had a decoding gadget of some kind."  
  
"Something like an artificial brain?" Trip asked. Phlox turned to him.  
  
"Yes, that is probably the case, although I can't be sure of that since I only saw the implant. Well, the problem for the Suliban was that they didn't have much time for the surgery - fifteen minutes at the most. So they couldn't recalibrate the device and adjust it to the human brain. That means that the device couldn't analyze most of the signals sent to Mr Reed's brain, and with the standart-configurations that were probably meant for Suliban it wasn't compatible with the human brain, which probably led to either partial or complete memory loss and migraine. About the exact symtoms I'll have to ask Mr Reed himself when he wakes up."  
  
"How is he?" Archer asked, gesturing at the drawn curtains that cut off a part of sickbay.  
  
"He needs rest, but else, he will be fit for duty in three or four days. Right now he's sleeping, but he should wake up during the next twenty minutes."  
  
Archer nodded. "I have to return to the bridge, but if you want to wait, Trip...I think Lieutenant Hess can manage an hour or two without your supervision."  
  
"Thanks, Cap'n."  
  
-###-  
  
He woke up slowly, first hearing the faint beeping of instruments, then seeing warm light behind his eyelids. He carefully opened his eyes, sqinting at the bright light. When his eyes had adjusted he blinked a few times and looked around. He was back on Enterprise. That was good. And he was in sickbay. That wasn't as great, but he was sure he could rectify that situation without too much trouble. Then he noticed someone sitting beside his biobed. Trip.  
  
"Welcome home." Tucker said with a broad smile. Reed smiled, too.  
  
"Hi Trip." He tried to sit up, and Tucker slid a hand behind his back, helping him. Reed blinked as dizzyness shortly blurred his vision, then the world came back into focus.  
  
"My head doesn't hurt anymore," he stated.  
  
"Yeah, the doc removed the implant."  
  
"Implant?" he asked. "What implant?"  
  
"I'll tell you later. Now tell me, how're you feelin'?"  
  
"Better. Like I said, my head doesn't hurt anymore, and I'm back on Enterprise." Reed smiled slightly. "I don't think there's been a time during the last three weeks that I've felt better."  
  
"You were there that long?" Tucker asked, surprised.  
  
"Yes. Why, how long has it been here?"  
  
"About two weeks. Long enough if you ask me. My God, Malcolm, we thought you were dead. I...I held the speech on your memorial service."  
  
"You did that?"  
  
"Yes I did, and it wasn't funny, I can tell you. Don't you ever make me do that again!"  
  
"I don't think I really have any control over that."  
  
"No." Tucker lowered his gaze. "Of course, nobody does. I'm sorry, I didn't want to yell at you. It's just...that I'm so relieved to actually be able to talk to you again." He looked up and Reed saw the slightest hint of tears in the other man's eyes. He reached out and put his hand on Tucker's arm.  
  
"You don't know how relieved *I* am. I really thought I had to stay in 1985 for the rest of my life. I even had a job already."  
  
Tucker lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Really? What did you do?"  
  
"I carried boxes."  
  
"You did what?"  
  
"I carried boxes. In a warehouse. Take a box from a stack, carry it to the other end of the warehouse and put it onto another stack. Six hours a day."  
  
Tucker grinned. "Sounds like the holiday jobs I had to get the money for my licence."  
  
"That thought crossed my mind too." Reed chuckled, then yawned. Tucker immediately got up.  
  
"I've been keeping you from getting better now long enough, I think."  
  
"No," Reed protested. "I'm fine, really."  
  
"I have to get back on duty anyway. I still have two hours of my shift left. Get some rest. Doctor's orders."  
  
"Right." Reed said and rolled his eyes. Tucker laughed and disappeared through the curtains.  
  
Laying back down, Reed let his gaze sweep over sickbay. 'I'm back on Enterprise,' he thought. 'I'm home.' Smiling, he closed his eyes, and minutes later was asleep again.  
  
THE END 


End file.
